Seeking
by jaimi-or-jaemi
Summary: John's a wolf-shifter who has just recently returned to London, Sherlock is the gifted human who just happens to need a flatmate, what happens when the two of them come in contact with each other. Slightly AU, johnlock, rating for language, violence, and eventual smut/slash. Will be updated at least once a week.
1. Introductions

_Authors Notes: After watching way too much of it and reading lots of fanfiction I now have a story stuck in my head, so here it is, it will be mostly from John's POV but occasionally Sherlock, Mycroft, and Greg will also have their views. _

_There are shifters of a variety of types and humans with the physic gifts._

_I will also note that there are similarities between the beginning of this story and the lovely story Werewolves in London Season One: A Study in Pink by Tiger DeRanged since we are both working with shifters of a variety, I suggest you go read hers because its well written_

_Any parts from the shows transcript have been lovingly gotten from Ariane DeVere's live journal because she was awesome enough to make a complete set. _

_Oh yeah, _"speaking", -texting-, _telepathy-human form, __**telepathy-animal or mixed form**_**, **everything else

_I'm American and this is un-beta'd, anything that seems weird is probably due to those two fact _

_That should be it for long authors notes._

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle. _

* * *

_Chapter 1  
__John's POV_

He awoke with a start, claws digging into the mattress as he bolted upright from the nightmare he had been having. Shaking his head, he tries to clear his mind of the memories, focus on something else. It doesn't work and for a time all he can see in front of him is the harsh desert, the members of his squad, some of which are pack. The attack caused by insurgents, so many dying with injuries. Jacob taking to the air despite the risks to get them help, waking up in surgery, the pain in his shoulder, in his leg. Returning to London but not in a way he wanted.

Eventually he is able to break away from the memories and just sits on his cot staring at the wall. By time he was able to pull himself out of his thoughts he could see the pale light of the dawn coming. In the link that connects his pack he can feel Jacob distant query if he is alright. Warmth spreads through him, and he replies in kind, allowing the warmth of his personality to shine through the link before breaking away.

Later the same day, shortly after getting done seeing the psychotherapist that the military seems to think he needs to see, he is walking through a park near where he had gone to school when a familiar smell catches his attention. Glancing around, he spots a slightly heavier man sitting on a bench and grins when he recognizes him.

When he pauses the other man seems to notice him and grins, commenting, "John! John Watson!"

He turns to face him, a small smile on his face, though it does not reach his eyes, "Mike, how are you?" he queries as the man comes over to where he stands.

Grinning, he motions to a passing coffee vendor and the two friends get a drink before finding somewhere to sit down and chat for a bit. A while later, after getting past the basic catching up, Mike inquires, "What about you? Just staying in town 'till you get yourself sorted? Have you heard from Harry yet?"

He shrugs, responding, "I can't afford London on an Army pension." For a moment he pauses, considering the rather frustrating call he had gotten his first day back, their uncle had died, that left him and his cousin as the next possible alpha's but it had already been decided by the council. They preferred him to his cousin as the next alpha of the Watson pack. That meant he would have to merge his pack in with the pack of his birth. Not the easiest thing to do. "Yeah, I heard about Uncle Eric. I thought you avoided pack functions?" he asks curiously.

Mike sighs, looking out, "I do, it was embarrassing being the only non-wolf in the family, but I am still kept in the loop about important things, and the cubs still like to visit."

He nods, understanding perfectly well. Part of the reason he had entered the army was to get away from the pack's alpha for a time. He loved his family and the pack, but some of the traditions really got on his nerves, particularly those regarding children who were not born with the wolf. Like a lot of packs, the pack was family to everyone in it. Unfortunately, for those who were not born wolves or shifters, this sometimes meant that they felt left out because they were not the same, they were different. The fact that there pack was purely wolf was also frustrating, because there were plenty of other shifters that would make good pack members even though they were different types. The pack that had formed between him and some of his soldiers from Afghanistan was not purely wolf unlike the pack of his birth. His pack was made up of three wolves besides himself, his second was a falcon, two vipers, one great cat, and a mouse. It is a small pack by most standards but a good pack.

For a bit the two just watch people before Mike comments, "You know you couldn't bear to be anywhere else." He pauses for a moment before querying, "Couldn't Harry help? Your uncle left you a fair bit if I remember her last rant about your stubbornness."

He snorts, "Yeah like that's going to happen, you know me."

Shaking his head a little he shrugs, "I do, so why not get a flastshare or something?"

"Come on," he responds mildly sarcastic, "who'd want me for a flatmate?"

Mike suddenly chuckles, a thoughtful look on his face as he comments, "You're the second person to say that to me today." Pausing he glances over, "plus you know most the pack would be more than happy to have you stay with them while you get back on your feet."

He gives a single shake of his head, "You know I won't do that. So who was the first?"

His pack-mate smiles at him, standing and motioning to the nearby hospital, "Come on then," he comments.

It takes the two of them a few minutes to walk there and when they first get there Mike stops in his office to drop off his stuff before taking John down to the lab. The two of them move in companionable silence and without any show of who is alpha and who is not. When they get to the lab, Mike wraps his knuckles on the door once before pushing it open and going in with John close behind.

As they step through the door he takes in the change in all of the equipment, the smells, and even the layout muttering, "Well, bit different from my day."

Chuckling, Mike replies, "You have no idea," as he walks over and leans against the counter, his eyes sharp as they take in the scene in front of him.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There is no signal on mine." A low baritone inquires from the other end of the room as the owner of it perches on a stool.

His attention is drawn to that voice, and he nearly finds himself staring at its owner. Short black curls fan around his face, the only sign of color besides the blue-grey eyes in an otherwise porcelain colored face. He's tall, taller than nearly every member of the pack, and rather graceful with a slender nearly too thin build. Switching to his wolf sense he can tell that he is purely human despite the otherworldly feel to him.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike queries while he is studying the beautiful man.

"I prefer to text." He replies, still distracted.

Glancing at him, Mike comments, "Sorry. It's in my coat."

Wanting to get a closer look at the human, John fishes his out of his back pocket, hesitantly offering, "Er, here, use mine," and holds it out for him.

The stranger seems startled and sends a quick look at Mike as he responds, "Oh. Thank you."

He gets the impression that while he was brought up with manners, he probably rarely ever uses them. Standing, he walks over as Mike makes the introductions.

"It's an old friend of mine, John Watson." He tells the dark-haired stranger.

He nods, accepting the phone and turning a slight bit from John. Flipping it open he starts to type on the keyboard without taking a moment to pause. John finds it amusing and gets the impression that he is not used to someone volunteering to help him.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" the dark-haired human inquires distractedly, is scent more curious now.

Frowning, he glances at Mike. Mike is just smiling mischievously, so apparently he knows something is going on or about to happen, but there is no malice or fear in the smell of the room so he decides to go along with it. Looking at the dark-haired man he questions, "Sorry?"

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?"

His scent changes, a touch of impatience joining the curiosity, so apparently he is used to people answering sooner than later. Frowning, he glances again at Mike who is still just smiling. As his impatience's grows the dark-haired human looks up at him questioningly before returning his glance to the phone.

Finally, trying not to chuckle because he is reminded of a cub wanting something and being told he had to wait, he replies, "Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know?" he lets his voice trail of to see what kind of answer he gets.

The human glances at him as but does not answer as his attention turns the human female who comes in and smells strongly of desire, "Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you." Shutting down the phone he hands it back to John, as he does so there hands touch and John is jolted by a small surge of power. His attention then turns to the human female, studying her closely as he takes the coffee and commenting, "What happened to the lipstick?"

John's gaze flickers to his hand as he puts the phone away he spots the small spiral that has appeared on his wrist. His bondmate, or at least one of the two people in this world he could bondmate. That is a bit unexpected. He had not thought that he would find them here in this place.

The female smiles at him a bit awkwardly, nervousness pouring from her, "It wasn't working for me," she replies.

Bemused, his potential bondmate accepts the cup, turning to head back to his station and muttering, "Really? I thought it was a big improvement." He pauses a moment, "your mouth's too small now."

The nervousness vanishes in disappointment, "Okay," she eventually sighs. Radiating sadness she turns and heads towards the door.

He almost doesn't notice that the next thing out of the dark-haired one's mouth is for him, "How do you feel about the violin?" he queries.

John glances at the retreating figure of the young female before realizing that the question is directed at him, again he flickers a look at Mike to see that he still has the same mischievous look on his face. "I'm sorry, what?"

Lifting his laptop on to the table he types away as he answers, "I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end." He pauses, glancing towards him, "would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." The smile he flashes is so obviously fake but he can tell that he would have a beautiful one if he was ever to let it be real instead.

His gaze shifts from the dark-haired human to Mike, a blank expression on his face. Knowing that Mike had not had a chance to say anything since they had just run into each other, he still comments, "Oh, you, you told him about me?"

Mikes mischievous smile seems to get bigger, "Not a word."

"Then who said anything about flatmates?" he asks, thinking, I wonder if he will answer me this time. I am going to have to carefully consider this situation. Flatmates with a potential bondmate? That could get into very dangerous territory or be just what is needed.

The human shuts down his laptop and then starts to put on his great coat replying, "I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't that difficult of a leap." He had put emphasis on the I, as if trying to prove that he did not need someone else to tell him things.

Giving him a blank look he questions, "How did you know about Afghanistan?" as he carefully smells the air again. Now that he has been identified as a potential bondmate he can smell even more from him, including the soft musk of purity and an overly smell of the city.

He ignores the question, instead taking the time to wrap his scarf around his neck and picking up his phone of the table. "Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it." he comments as he checks the phone. Turning, he walks towards John commenting, "We'll meet there tomorrow evening. Seven o'clock. Sorry, gotta dash, I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary." He continues pasted him, heading towards the door as he puts his phone in a pocket.

"Is that it?" he queries turning to watch him go and knowing that he really does not want this particular human to leave. He is making sure that he can trace him anywhere, getting a feel for his aura, his life presence.

While he seems outwardly calm, the scent he gives off is frustrated, almost annoyed yet full of curiosity. Turning back to him the dark-haired one strolls over towards him, his voice deceptively calm as he asks, "Is that what?"

Enjoying the scent of his frustration he replies, "We've only just met and we're gonna go and look at a flat?"

"Problem?" the frustration seems to have gone just a bit higher.

He smiles in disbelief, eyes flickering to his childhood friend who cannot seem to get control of the mischievous look he is giving. "We don't know a thing about each other," he comments, "I don't know where we're meeting," though that one is easily fixed by following his life presence, "I don't even know your name." Which happens to be really important since he likes the idea of courting his unusual possible bondmate and knowing who he is important in that concept.

His scent suddenly changes from frustrated to delighted, as if accepting a challenge and planning to enjoy it. "I know you're an army doctor and you have been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him," he pauses, "possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, possibly correct I am afraid."

He glances down at his leg, not saying anything about the fact he had been slashed by an alchemic silver bullet and shuffles his feet a bit. He has got the link between them firmly established so he will always be able to discover where his dark-haired human is but before he can reply, his human continues, his tone rather smug.

"That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" again he walks to the door, this time even managing to slip out it before leaning in, introducing himself, "The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is two-two-one B Baker Street." He clicks his tongue at him, winking, "Afternoon," he intones glancing at Mike before the door slams shut behind him.

Mike's mischievous smile changes a little as he comments, "Yeah. He's always like that."

Holding his wrist up he shows Mike the light spiral that has appeared, knowing that even though his friend was born human he can still see the wolf mark because it is in his blood.

"Really? Now that's interesting, what do you plan to do with that information?" his pack-mate questions as John leans a hip against the table.

A predatory smile curves his lips, "I plan to find out if we would work well together of course, only way to know if it is even worth the bonding. I guess I am staying in London after all."

His friend grins at him with him grinning back before both start laughing. "Well I guess I will see you at the next new moon then?"

"Full, but yes, I plan to be there for the full moon."

The two nod at each other before leaving and going their separate ways.


	2. Seeing the Flat

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle. _

_Thanks to 'Guest' and 'M' for my first reviews, I happen to love reviews so feel free to leave one._

'_Guest' there are lots of chapters to come, a whole long story to go. It might be slow updating sometimes because of life but I won't abandon it. _

* * *

_Chapter 2  
__John's POV_

That night as he sat in his bedsit at his desk he opened his laptop with curiosity for the first time in a long while. Normally when he did so it was out of obligation, this time it was not, it was out of need to discover all he could about the young man who could become his bondmate in the near future. Over the next several hours he looked up everything that he could on Sherlock Holmes, learning as much as possible about the human.

He was from a small family but one of one of great importance in the British government. Apparently he was the only one in several generations not to go into politics. His father was dead, his mother a noble woman who held court in her home but rarely left it, both his brothers work for the government in some form, though exactly how he is not sure yet. There are several articles on each of the Holmes brothers as children because all three were protégés. Past that he had not been able to find very much recent information on him, but all he had found made him even more intrigued.

When he was done with his research it was early morning, far too early for some but he knew his sister, she would still be awake so he sent her a text.

-Found a potential bondmate, going to stay in London to check it out.- JW

-Bondmate? Finally! I was worried that it was never going to happen. Who's the lucky women?- HW

-Not a female-JW

-Your male potential bondmate? Intriguing. I thought you swore off blokes after that incident in uni?-HW

-Oh shut up. I just wanted to tell you before Mike did.- JW

-Okay. When will the next pack meeting be?-HW

-Looking at a place tonight. Text you after with address if it is a go. Full moon.-JW

-I'll tell the others. Bye.-HW

After the brief chat with his sister, he lies back on his bed and stares at the ceiling considering all the new information he had received. He had sworn off sleeping with other blokes after the one in uni had tried to blackmail him, but something said that this particular bloke would be in a totally different ball park. By the way he reacted to the female at the morgue, Molly, he wasn't really interested in females perhaps that meant he was interested in males instead. But…his mind calls up his scent. No, that's not right, there is nothing lingering in any way about anything intimate or sexual in his scent. Is he asexual then? Not aware or not caring of his bodies needs? That could end up being interesting if that is the case because then he would have to figure out how to make him want something that has been uninteresting to him so far. Something to consider.

Drifting off his mind builds an image of him. His well defined features, piercing grey-blue eyes that saw far more than they probably should, delectable smelling and tasty looking pale skin, his tall lithe frame, and the rather fine outfit he was wearing that highlighted all his best features. Oh yes, this could be a very good thing, and he made an attractive image for a mate.

A few short hours later and he was awake again, his body not used to sleeping more than four hours at a time. Stretching slowly, he gets off the bed and makes sure that everything he needs is packed up so that it will not take much to move. Then, because something tells him he should he digs out the small hoister for his gun and layers his clothing so it is not seeable. After thinking about it for a few minutes he grabs the two knife sheaths and connects them on the inside of his boots.

Glancing at the clock he realizes that he still has several hours to go before he needs to leave so he spends the time planning for the next pack meeting, and contacting various members of his little pack. The first one he gets in touch with is Jacob when he knows he is awake.

-Meeting at next full moon. Location being determined tonight. I will text you once I know.-JW

-Sir. I will notify the others.- BJF

-It will include both packs for merging.-JW

-Shall I expect to step down?- BJF

-No. Harry wishes to.-JW

-Sir.- BJF

Once that conversation is out of the way, he decides to take some time looking around London, reacquainting himself with the city. Of course while he is out and about he runs into several different members of the pack, all of them happy to see him home, Harry had already told relayed the message about the next full moon so every one of the ones he ran into kept it brief. Shortly after six pm he starts heading in the direction his phone says Baker Street is. He gets there just prior to seven pm and is not sure if he should knock or not, he is just getting ready to when he catches the scent of Sherlock behind him getting out of a cabbie.

Turning he briefly smiles, and walks over to him, "Ah, Mr. Holmes." He greets him, using his last name seems off to him somehow but know it is the polite thing to do until given permission to use his first name.

"Sherlock please," the tall human replies, shaking his hand.

Glancing around he comments, "Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive," to see what Sherlock's response will be.

Dismissively he replies, "Oh, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal. Owes me a favor. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out."

A curious look and he inquires, "Stopped it or guaranteed it?"

Sherlock's lips curve into a smile, "I ensured it."

A moment later the door is opened by a slightly older woman who opens her arms to the young human. "Sherlock, hello." She greets him.

He turns towards her, hugging her briefly before stepping back to make introductions, "Mrs. Hudson, Doctor John Watson."

The scent he gives off when near the older woman is familial, as if he considers a mother. Considering her scent is much like an old mother he is not surprised at all.

She turns to look at him, "Hello."

"How do?" he politely inquires.

Smiling, she gestures him inside, "Come in."

He inclines his head, "Thank you."

At the same time Sherlock queries, "Shall we?"

"Yeah," Mrs. Hudson responds.

The three head inside, with Sherlock taking the stairs three at a time, with John slowly making his way up second, and Mrs. Hudson closing the door behind them before following. When he reaches the second floor, Sherlock opens the door to the living room, stepping inside.

He takes a look around, spotting the miscellaneously place boxes. Taking a delicate sniff, he can tell that this is all Sherlock's things, so he had already started moving in. "Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed." He comments as he enjoys the scent of his potential bondmate.

"Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely," he states as he looks around the flat happily. "So I went straight ahead and moved in."

He smiles at the younger man, taking in the fact that it might seem to be a mess but he is fairly certain that the young human's mind knows exactly where everything is and the mess probably changes with his moods on a day to day bases. Glancing at the mantle he smiles at the skull he spots, and motions with his cane at it, "That's a skull."

Almost as if realizing he had made a mess, Sherlock glances around and mumbles, "Well, obviously I can, um, straighten things up a bit." When the dark-haired human realizes that he is motioning to the skull, he replies to the unspoken question a bit more clearly, "Friend of mine. When I say 'friend' . . ." his voice trails off as he starts taking his coat and scarf off.

Mrs. Hudson had followed them up and picks up a cup with saucer off the table, inquiring, "What do you think, then, Doctor Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms."

His lips curve into a small smirk as he replies, "We'll see if we'll be needing two bedrooms."

The older woman rambles on as if she hadn't heard him, "Oh, don't worry, there are all sorts round here." Her voice drops to a whisper as she comments, "Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones."

He glances over at Sherlock to see what his reaction is to that but he seems oblivious as he halfheartedly moves things around. Well that will change with time, he thinks, for now he will use the second room but eventually perhaps they will share the same room. Patience, he reminds himself, this is going to take patience, and who has more patience then a wolf at times?

While Sherlock is moving things around Mrs. Hudson goes into the kitchen only to turn around and sigh, "Oh Sherlock, the mess you've made." Before she goes to tidying things up a bit.

A sharp pain shoots through his leg, reminding him that he had been on it for longer than it wanted today. Grabbing a pillow he plumps it up before dropping it and himself into an armchair. As soon as the pressure is off his leg he softly sighs, before remarking, "I looked you up on the internet last night."

That seems to catch his attention because the dark-haired human sets what he was doing down and turn to face him as he tucks his hands into his pockets querying, "Anything interesting?"

John smiles a bit, thinking far more than you would expect, but commenting, "Found your website, The Science of Deduction."

A proud smile crosses his face as he asks, "What did you think?"

He replies with an amused look which seems to mildly confuse Sherlock if his scent is anything to go by, "You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb."

"Yes, and I can read your military career in your face and leg, and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone." He replies, his tone remaining even.

Curious he asks, "How?" but does not actually expect an answer since he hadn't got one yet to that question.

Sure enough he does not answer, instead he turns to face the window, his left hand fiddling with something as Mrs. Hudson comes out of the kitchen with a newspaper.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same." She comments as she folds it up and glances at him.

"Four," he replies distractedly, his scent beginning to become excited as he walks over to the window and looks down at the street. "There's been a fourth. And there is something different this time."

Her scent changes, including fear in it as she repeats, "A fourth?"

A moment later he hears the front door click and the heavy steps of a person coming up the stairs. Not even a minute has passed and a serious looking fellow with silvering hair comes walking in the door even as Sherlock inquires, "Where?"

Catching his breath the fellow replies, "Brixton, Lauriston Gardens."

John takes another sniff of the air discreetly and is mildly surprised that this fellow has shifter blood in him though it is so light as to say that he is a human child of a shifter. Jackal if he is not mistaken. That means he probably does not belong to a pack since jackal tend to get rid of all human offspring.

Curiosity pours off of Sherlock despite his outwardly calm tone, "What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different."

Still breathing a little heavy he responds, "You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah…"

"This one did. Will you come?" there is need in his voice, acceptance even though it seems to be grudging. His scent says that he respects him to a point but is weary of him, this makes John curious why but does not plan on asking just yet.

A thoughtful look crosses Sherlock's face as he questions, "Who's on forensics?"

Tilting his head a bit, the stranger answers seriously, "It's Anderson."

Sherlock scowls a bit as his scent changes to annoyance, "Anderson won't work with me," he complains.

"Well he won't be your assistant," the stranger answers trying to cheer him up.

"I need an assistant," Sherlock insists, frustration changing his scent again, but beneath it is happiness.

Nodding once, the fellow repeats, "Will you come?"

Fidgeting, he replies, "Not in a police car. I'll be right behind."

"Thank you," he breaths in relief, giving Sherlock a small bow before taking a quick glance around the room before he heads down the stairs.

When he is gone, John can still smell the soft scent of joy from Sherlock. Before he has a chance to say anything though he spots the smile curving his lips and watches in mild confusion and amusement as he jumps in the air doing a half-circle with clenched fists as he mutters, "Brilliant!" excitedly. Landing facing the other direction his hands move as he continues to speak spinning around happily, "Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it's Christmas!"

If he had seemed happy previously, he can now tell that it is more than just happiness. He is overjoyed at the thrill of the hunt, his mind fully engaged, and his scent full of curiosity. Its rather intoxicating and as he flutters into the kitchen, saying something to the landlady as he does so, John barely hears because he is too busy trying to get his hormones back under control.

Almost as soon as he gets his hormones controlled, he catches the tail end of Mrs. Hudson's commentary, "…You rest your leg."

"Damn my leg!" he snarls, thinking that it is really getting annoying. Immediately after he feels bad when he catches the scent of her shock, before she can say anything he apologizes, "Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing…" he allows himself to trail off as her scent shifts to understanding. He smacks his leg with the cane, frustrated.

Frowning he realizes he will have to be careful about using his sense of smell because there are also chemicals in here and he does not want to misread a situation because of the chemicals in the air. Oh brother….

Mrs. Hudson apparently feels better about his apology and takes it as an uncommon trait for him, commenting, "I understand, dear, I've got a hip." Again she turns towards the door and he recalls that she had offered him a cuppa.

"Cup of tea'd be lovely, thank you." he says, commenting on her earlier offer.

She responds but he is not really paying attention despite the fact he response. He has picked up the newspaper that speaks about Beth Davenport's apparent suicide. With that article is another article that talks about D.I. Lestrade, identifying the human with shifter blood. He is in the process of reading it when Sherlock swings the door back open and looking at him speculatively as he pulls on a set of sleek black leather gloves.

"You're a doctor. In fact you're an army doctor." He murmurs, his voice thoughtful.

He knows where Sherlock is going even before he gets there, yet he waits patiently for him to continue, standing slowly, he replies, "Yes."

"Any good?" the dark-haired human asks curiously.

"Very good," he responds, putting emphasis on the very.

Walking towards him, Sherlock continues, "Seen a lot of injuries then, violent deaths."

"Mmmm, yes," he answers him seriously, keeping his darker eyes locked on him as he keeps waiting.

Stopping directly in front of him he remarks, "Bit of trouble too, I bet."

Lowering his voice a bit, he comments, "Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much." He is thinking of the various hunters and problems that have occurred over the years. Problems with the pack he was born into, the deaths of those into the pack he had created in Afghanistan. Yes there had been problems.

Staring down at him with those beautiful eyes, Sherlock inquires, "Wanna see some more?"

Anticipation spikes through his body as he fervently replies, "Oh God yes," and follows him out of the flat.

* * *

_AN: So I will post the next chapter which is close to done when I have ten reviews, have a great one everyone! Nah, never mind. _


	3. Conversation in a Cab

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Thanks for the reviews folks! As always they are appreciated. _

* * *

_Chapter 3  
__Sherlock's POV  
_As the two of them left the apartment, Mrs. Hudson had commented, "Both of you?" to something his new flatmate had said. His mind had already been on the case, so it was her slightly higher voice that caught his attention.

Spinning on his heel, he approaches her remarking, "Impossible suicides? Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" he had put emphasis on the fun because he was sure he was going to enjoy himself. Gently grabbing her shoulders he kisses her on the check noisily.

Tutting at him, she comments smiling at his exuberance, "Look at you, all happy. It's not decent."

He turn and heads towards the front door, replying, "Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!"

Within moments of leaving the building he has got a cabbie to pick them up in the same style that he always does. Cabbies almost always answer his first call for a ride much to many others annoyance. Once the two of them are in and on the way he studies the information on his phone for a few minutes before realizing that his new flatmate, John his mind supplies him, keeps giving him questioning glances. Setting his phone down, he glances over at him, commenting, "Okay, you've got questions."

"Why are we going to a crime scene?" the short blonde inquires, his expression serious.

"It's what I do," he replies, "next?"

"What you do?" he repeats, a curious written across his face. "Who are you?"

Keeping his tone neutral he challenges, "What do you think?"

Slowly, as if considering his answer, he states, "I'd say a private detective…." his voice trails off as he glances out the window.

"But?" he prompts him, impatiently waiting for him to continue. He wants to know if this flatmate will be as smart as he thinks he might be. Something tells him that there is more to John Watson than meets the eye and he wants to know what it is.

"…but the police don't go to private detectives." He finishes looking right at him with a sharp gaze.

"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job." He replies with a small satisfied smile.

John keeps his attention locked on him as he queries, "What does that mean?"

Feeling quite pleased with himself he answers, "It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me."

Amusement colors John's voice as he remarks, "The police don't consult amateurs."

Glancing over at the blond haired man, he decides to try and prove himself, with others that never works but something seems different about this one. "When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, 'Afghanistan or Iraq?'. You looked surprised."

"Yes, how did you know?" his companion queries.

Glancing his way again he answers, "I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. But your conversation as you entered the room," he pauses for a moment remembering, "said trained at Bart's, so army doctor, obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan, Afghanistan or Iraq." He finishes up clicking the k sound from Iraq.

John looks out the window, muttering, "You said I had a therapist."

Looking straight ahead he answers, "You've got a psychosomatic limp, of course you've got a therapist." He pauses for a breath before glancing back at his new flatmate, "Then there's your brother."

"Hmmm?" he replies as he pulls the phone in question out.

Sherlock holds his hand out, taking it when John pulls it out of his pocket, "Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flatshare, you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift then." He flips it around for a minute, observing it. "Scratches. Not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy, you know it already."

A slightly startled look crosses John's face as he murmurs, "The engraving."

He flips it so the engraving is visible, Harry Watson from Clara xxx. "Harry Watson: clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently – this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then – six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left him, he would have kept it. People do – sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you: that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help: that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don't like his drinking." The entire time he is speaking, his hands never stop moving because of the energy he always seems to have.

"How could you possibly know about the drinking?" John almost demands looking right at him.

He smiles, "Shot in the dark, good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to the charger but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them." He hands back the phone, gazing out the window. "There you go, you see, you were right."

The shorter man is looking at his phone as he asks, "I was right? Right about what?" he sounds shocked on the word 'I'.

"The police don't consult amateurs," he puts a bit more emphasis on amateurs then he had plans, his gaze never leaving the window as he waits, biting his lip for what the other man will say. Just once he would like if someone actually appreciated his gift rather than mock him for it.

"That…" John begins, still looking at his phone, "was amazing." He finishes looking up and straight ahead nodding a bit.

He knows he looks confused but he really hadn't expected that particular answer so he glances around for a moment before settling his eyes on his companion. "Do you think so?" despite his best effort to sound steady, he can just about hear the hope in his voice.

His companions glance flickers to him and away before he replies, "Of course it was." With emphasis on it, "It was extraordinary, it was quite extraordinary."

Shocked, he looks back out the window, pausing a moment before replying, "That's not what people normally say."

He can feel John's eyes locked on him, "What do people normally say?"

"'Piss off!'" he replies, giving him a tight smile as he looks his way.

John just smiles at back at him before both of them look out the window.

The rest of the trip is done in silence. His mind is reeling over the concept that someone appreciates what he can do. No one has appreciated it since he was a small child. His younger brother had, but he was not allowed to spend a lot of time with Aragorn because he was too different. Mycroft had left home when he was still young to pursue an education and career, coming back a far different brother than he had left. Now his younger brother barely spoke to him, and he felt his older brother was the enemy. His father had appreciated his talent as long as he was using it to his advantage, as soon as he stopped however, that's when he had been separated from Aragorn.

Then his father died, and his mother blamed him, and she continued to keep him separate. It seemed that they turned on him, the whole lot of them. So when he graduated at sixteen he had gone straight to uni, rather than take some time to himself. The hope was he could find someone else like himself at uni only that failed too. It was then that he gave up trying to make others happy with himself, and tried to just be content because what other choice did he have?

D.I. Lestrade calls him for help, not because he wants to, but because Mycroft strongly suggested it during his dark times in order to get him away from drugs and other such things. While the D.I. grudgingly admits he has a gift, he also seems to dislike him for other reasons. The rest of the D.I.'s team actively hates him however, which just reinforces the fact he is alone.

Just before they pull up to where they are going John watches him commenting, "You had almost all of it correct, missing a few facts so it is not surprising it was not perfect, but still, amazing."

"What? What did I get wrong?" he demands as the cabbie pulls to a stop. The two men, get out and he pays still waiting for his response. How could have gotten something wrong?

"Harry and me rarely get on, always been that way. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting a divorce. Harry is not a regular drinker." The shorter man answers, standing still and watching him.

He smiles to himself, sounds like he only missed one detail, but it is minor, there are some medical conditions that could cause that too, it just had not seemed likely. "Spot on, then, for the most part. I didn't expect to be right about everything." He starts to walk away but John has not moved.

"Harry is short for Harriet."

Stopping dead in his tracks he turns to look at him, he still hasn't moved. "Harry's your sister." He mutters, watching him, there is something more. What else is it. "What else, you haven't moved yet, and you said I was missing facts. What facts?"

A small smile tugs at the shorter man's lips, "Alchemic silver burns our kind, I was shot, twice, once a graze, once not."

Alchemic silver, alchemic silver, he repeats to himself trying to think of where he heard of it before. Of course, Mycroft. When they were children a second race had come to the surface in many cultures, a race of shifters. No one knew exactly how many there were. Most never volunteered information on themselves past the fact that they could shift. There was a specially made type of silver that harmed them, called alchemic silver for the process used to make it. "Shifter?" he demands, wanting to know if he is correct.

The shorter man nods once, "Wolf, elite alpha wolf to be exact."

For a moment Sherlock's mind whirls with the implications, that means that he is at the head of a pack. That he is one of the fastest, strongest wolves in the packs to have elite added to his title. Yet he needed somewhere to go? Why? Of course, the head of the pack would not ask for help.

"Your sister? She doesn't drink but has a shake like she does, why?"

He gives a small shrug, "Medical problems, plus an allergy to most types of starches."

"Oh." He mutters, still John has not moved, he is standing perfectly still watching him, and Sherlock realizes that he does not expect him to accept him for some reason. Doesn't John realize the gift this is to him? Someone who actually seems to appreciate his gift, his ability? It's so rare that there was no way he would intentionally turn him away, besides, it would give him a chance to learn more about a race that had intrigued him that his brother had not been able to learn anything about. That was always a bonus in his book. "Come on, we've got a murder to look at."

That seems to startle the doctor, and he starts moving forward, "Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" he inquires, curiosity in is tone along with something else.

"Sister," he mutters to himself annoyed that he misread it. Shaking his head a bit, he turns and heads towards where the police have it taped off. Exasperated, he continues, "There is always something." John had said something, but he had not been paying attention because he was muttering to himself. Really though, a wolf shifter.

* * *

Hiya 'Guest'  
I'd email and reply but ah'last it's just not happening *grins*. Nope, I still post it nearly as soon as it is done, but occasionally I get someone who leave a joke review because of the comment and its always funny *smiles*. That's the reason I put it at the bottom, I know if someone does comment on it, they've read the whole thing, and it just makes my little heart a flutter, personally though, I am happy with every review I get. No matter the reasoning. *smiles*. Thanks for the review!  
Jaimi


	4. Lady in Pink

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed)._

* * *

_Chapter 4  
__John's POV  
_When it becomes apparent that he is not going to answer, and that he does not seem to have a problem with the fact he is a shifter, John continues towards the crime scene, querying, "No, seriously, what am I doing here?"

Again the dark-haired human doesn't respond, moving up to the taped off area. When he gets there a lightly brown skin woman with a bushy, curly hair greets him, "Hello freak." Her voice is lilting, and her tone impudent. John can smell the dislike pouring off of her.

Sherlock stops just before the barrier, ignoring the barb and remarking, "I'm here to see Detective Inspect Lestrade."

"Why?" she demands.

He looks at her, replying, "I was invited."

"Why?" she repeats herself, her tone full of malice.

Taking a deep breath, he catches the scent of the woman in front of him, a jackal-wolf hybrid. Not a very strong one, no pack connection that he can smell, so an omega then.

Sarcasm drips from his potential bondmate's voice as he answers, "I think he wants me to take a look."

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?" she responds.

Sherlock's expression remains neutral as he lifts the tape and ducts under it, "Always Sally," he replies before intentionally sniffing the air, "I even know you didn't make it home last night."

"I don't…" she stutters before noticing his approach, lifting a hand in a stopping motion she shifts gears, "Er, who's this?"

Continuing to watch her, the dark-haired man responds, "Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson." Pausing for a moment, he looks towards him, "Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan," he introduces, his voice filling with sarcasm as he continues, "Old friend."

She just about snarls at him according to the expression on her face as she looks at Sherlock. Disbelieving, she repeats, "A colleague? How do you get a colleague?" Turning towards him she cruel asks, "What, did he follow you home?"

The alpha in John is insulted and he responds accordingly, snapping, "No, packless omega hybrid, he didn't. Watch your tongue."

Her eyes widen as she stares at him. "What?" she breathes, shock pouring from her.

Glancing at Sherlock he questions, "Would it be better if I just waited and…"

Looking away, Sherlock lifts the tape, answering, "No." he can smell the surprise coming from him, apparently that was something he was not used to.

Nodding he walks under the tape. As he does so, the jackal-wolf radios in, "Freak's here, bringing him in."

Before she can get more than two steps however, John snarls low in his throat and uses the control all alpha's have to force her mind into submission. She stops moving, barely breathing as the force of his will hits her. _I thought I told you to watch your tongue. _He snarls directly into her mind, _as a omega without a pack, the best course of action for you would be to listen when an alpha gives a direct order. _

_I … _her mind stutters before she switches to aloud, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

_I am not the one you should be apologizing too. As a shifter you should know better than to be cruel to those who are different, or do you know nothing of your own kind and the hunts that have occurred over the years just because we are different?_ He growls at her, still maintaining control over her.

_I will apologize,_ she whispers in response. He releases her mind and she turns back towards his dark-haired human, bowing her head respectively as she does so, "I am sorry Mr. Holmes, I was out of line."

He can feel the surprise pouring off of him, apparently he had never been apologized to before, at least not by her. Those piercing eyes lock on to him as Sherlock studies him for a moment before nodding once and heading towards the building, dismissing the situation. As he strides towards the building, he glances around taking everything in much to John's amusement.

John lifts his phone, quickly sending a text to Jacob, -there is an omega wolf-jackal named Sally Donovan, look into her.- JW.

-Sir.- BJF

Just as they reach the stairs to the building another tall, dark haired human who looks sickly comes walking out. Loathing scenting the air when he spots Sherlock as well. The two of them stop face to face, almost like two alpha's challenging each other, but this other man is human too, nothing supernatural about him.

"Anderson, here we are again," his dark-haired companion drawls, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

The look Anderson gives him makes John want to snarl, but he holds his patience, this one doesn't have any shifter blood in him, just a plain human and thus out of his domain. "It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"

His dark-haired companion takes another sniff of the air, looking past Anderson as he answers to Sally. "Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?"

Scowling at him with distrust, Anderson snaps, "Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that."

Looking away from the two of them, Sherlock responds, "Your deodorant told me that."

A confused look crosses the jack-ass human's face, "My deodorant?" he repeats.

A sarcastic, quirky look is shot towards Anderson as Sherlock replies, "It's for men," as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, of course it's for men! I'm wearing it!" he snaps.

Smiling rather viciously at him, his dark-haired companion remarks, "So's Sergeant Donovan."

The pasty faced human spins to stare at the hybrid, shock and anger on his face.

Taking a deep breath Sherlock comments, "Ooh, and I think it just vaporized. May I go in?"

The human turns back to face him angrily, pointing and snapping, "Now look: whatever you're trying to imply..." he trails of as Sherlock steps past.

As he steps by he observes, "I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over." He spins back towards the jack-ass human, and flicks a glance at the hybrids legs as he does so, continuing, "And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees."

Both the human and hybrid stare at him, the scent of fear and anger filling the air, along with Sherlock's scent of satisfaction from putting them in their place. Smiling to himself, he follows the tall human in, intentionally glancing at the hybrid's knees as he does so. Inside the building they come to where the detective inspector is standing, preparing to go in by dressing in a set of coveralls.

"You need to wear one of these," his tall companion tells him, hand motioning to the coveralls as he steps past the detective inspector to grab a pair of medical gloves.

"Who's this?" the serious man inquires as he finishes getting his coveralls on.

"He's with me," comes the offhanded reply as the dark-haired human strips off his heavy leather gloves and shoves them in his pocket.

"But who is he?"

His tone seems to harden as Sherlock repeats himself, "I said he's with me."

His dark-haired human ignores the question, and the serious human glances back at him accepting it as fact. Curious about why he is not putting on a coverall, he inquires, "Aren't you going to put one on?" only to get a look from Sherlock that clearly asked if he was kidding.

"So where are we?" Sherlock inquires, tone even, but excitement pouring off of him.

"Upstairs." The human jackal child replies.

The three of them make their ways up two flights of stairs to a room on the second floor. Sherlock and the detective inspector briefly discuss the situation as they climb up the steps. Upon entering the room he takes in the scene in front of him. The woman is not that old, dressed in pink including over coat and heeled shoes. For a moment he bows his head respectfully.

"Shut up." Sherlock tells the other human.

His head jerks towards him startled, "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking, it's annoying," comes the harsh reply as he moves forward and begins investigating the area around her.

The detective inspector glances over at him with a slightly confused look on his face before going back to watching Sherlock.

Meanwhile, Sherlock is carefully going over the woman, touching and moving things around as he feels he needs to. Sharp eyes taking in details that he is sure that everyone else would probably miss just because that seems to be the type of personality he has. Eventually he smirks as he straightens out.

The detective inspector inquires, "Got anything?"

"Not much," he replies distractedly, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Coming to lean against the door Anderson comments, "She's German. 'Rache': it's German for 'revenge'. She could be trying to tell us something…" but is cut off by Sherlock shutting the door in his face.

"Yes, thank you for your input," he mutters sarcastically as he looks something up on his phone.

The serious human inquires, "So she's German?"

"Of course she's not. She's from out of town, though. Intended to stay in London for one night..." Sherlock replies distractedly as he continues to look through his phone, finally he smiles smugly, before continuing to say "before returning home to Cardiff." Again he pauses, this time to pocket his phone, "So far, so obvious."

He knows that there is a slightly confused look on his face as he questions, "Sorry, obvious?"

The detective inspector is giving off a frustrated scent as he asks, "What about the message, though?"

Sherlock ignores the other human to inquires, "Doctor Watson, what do you think?"

His confusion gets a bit worse, which makes him feel a bit uncomfortable since he is not used to being confused, "Of the message?" he inquires glancing at the other human in the room.

Those sharp eyes never leave his face as he is asked, "Of the body. You're a medical man."

Stuttering in frustration the human jackal child protests, "Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside."

For a brief second those sharp eyes focus in on the other human as he comments, "They won't work with me." before they come back to rest on his face. For a moment he almost feels like he is in an alpha challenge with the focus that is on him, yet he realizes that it is not quite the same.

Open mouthed the human jackal child stares at him, pointing out, "I'm breaking every rule letting you in here."

Again those sharp eyes flicker away for just a moment, his response practical and fact, "Yes, because you need me," he just about hisses the yes.

Nodding once in acknowledgement, the serious human replies, "Yes I do." He looks at the ground, frustration obvious, "God help me."

"Doctor Watson." Sherlock states.

"Hm?" he responses glancing between Sherlock and the detective inspector.

"Oh, do as he says. Help yourself." His voice is soft, resigned as he turns and leaves the room for a moment. Stepping outside, he can hear him giving orders, "Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes."

The two of them go over to the body of the woman, with Sherlock dropping down next to her gracefully, while it takes him a bit more to do so. The pain in his leg is shooting through him, causing him to grit his teeth but he does it anyways.

"Well?" Sherlock inquires, his voice low as he watches him.

"What am I doing here?" he inquires in response, just as softly.

Glancing at the door he answers, his voice still quiet, "Helping me make a point."

Keeping his eyes locked on his potential bondmate he replies in a matching tone, "I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent."

Sherlock glances at the woman then answers him still softly speaking, "Yeah, well, this is more fun."

Returning to his normal voice he comments, "Fun? There's a woman lying dead." There is something off about his potential bondmate, but he is not exactly sure what it is.

Still watching him, Sherlock remarks, "Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd go deeper." Just as the detective walks back into the room.

Sighing to himself, he gets his other leg to folded down and carefully examines her body, using his senses of touch, sight, and smell predominately. "Yeah, asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her." he pause for a moment, his voice low, "There is something there though that caused her to vomit, some toxin in her system that is nearly completely unscentable."

Voice still lower than normal Sherlock remarks, "You know what it was. You've read the papers." His expression completely neutral as he keeps his eyes on him.

"What, she's one of the suicides? The fourth?" he questions, glancing between Sherlock and the human jackal child.

Before the dark-haired man can reply, the human jackal child states, "Sherlock – two minutes, I said. I need anything you've got."

"Victim is in her late thirties." He begins, gracefully getting to his feet and watching as he stands a bit slower now that his leg is stiff. "Professional person, going by her clothes; I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase" Once he is up, Sherlock turns away, walking past the detective and looking around the room as if searching for something.

"Suitcase?" the detective inspector questions even as the dark-haired human continues speaking. "Suitcase, yes. She's been married at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married."

While he is speaking, John glances around the room to see if he can see a suitcase or the signs of it anywhere.

"Oh, for God's sake, if you're just making this up..." the human jackal child exclaims, his eyes locked on the dark-haired human as he paces the room, his arms crossed across his chest.

To prove his point Sherlock starts pointing out details about her, starting with her ring, "Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least." He kneels down next to her as he points to whatever he is currently talking about. "The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work; look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands," he pauses for a moment as he stands, "so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple."

"It's brilliant," he breathes amazed, startling himself by the fact that he had said it aloud. Apparently startling his potential bondmate too, who turns to look at him curiously. "Sorry." He tells the detective inspector, realizing that he interrupted.

"Cardiff?" the detective inspector repeats where Sherlock had said she was from earlier.

Looking at the detective inspector he questions, "It's obvious, isn't it?"

When neither himself or the human jackal child immediately understand, John states, "It's not obvious to me."

Sherlock glances between the two men, grumbling, "Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring." Turning back to the woman's body he once again attempts to explain himself, "Her coat: it's slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it's dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?" He pauses for a breath as he grabs his phone, showing the weather report to the other two so he can see how he came about the answer, "Cardiff." The entire time he is speaking he uses his hands and body in order to emphasis what he is saying.

Again he is impressed by the dark-haired human's logical and ability to comprehend. "That's fantastic."

Still shocked by the fact someone is praising him it seems, Sherlock turns and asks him in a low voice, "D'you know you do that out loud?"

He can feel his cheeks heat up as he replies, "Sorry. I'll shut up."

Giving him a slightly bemused and bewildered look, Sherlock tells him, "No, it's fine." With a short pause between the last two words.

The next few minutes go in a blur for him as he listens to the two humans go back and forth. First about the suitcase, then about the phone, and then about the name Rachel scratched into the floor. Unfortunately, his attention had been diverted because he was trying to understand how this brilliant man could be at such ill ease and shock over being told he was brilliant. After all, the intelligence was there, the skill was there, was nobody really paying that close attention?

Eventually he goes off on a tangent about the suitcase, just about rushing down the stairs as he speaks with the detective inspector. When he is just about to the bottom of the steps he seems to have an epiphany according to the overwhelm smell of pleasure coming from him that over lays the rest of the scents in the building, followed by his mad dash down the rest of the stairs.

* * *

_AN: a large thank you to the ten people who clicked the follow button, your all awesome. _


	5. Questions

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed)._

* * *

_Chapter 5  
__John's POV  
_After leaving the crime scene he walks around for a bit, thinking about everything he had learned tonight of the man who could be his potential bondmate. He is impulsive, reckless, fast-thinking, direct, a tad bit insulting, and has a tendency to forget about others. Despite that, he had seen the way the detectives and there various people had treated him so he was not surprised that he had acted in that fashion. How lonely he must be if that is how everyone in his life treats him.

Originally he had considered getting cab but as he walks he decides against that course of action, preferring instead to just walk for a while in order to stretch his leg a bit more. Plus it gave him time to consider how he wants to deal with his new flatmate, the human with the potential to be his bondmate. First off, he determined, someone needed to show him his worth as more than just a human computer. Secondly, he needed to feel accepted, something he is sure he has never had. Third, well that might be the easiest, bring him into the pack. A pack member is always given affection by other members, and Sherlock is in dire need of affection if he can tell anything.

Finally, after a while of walking, and his leg getting ever so stiff he tries to hail a cab but cannot seem to do so. However something weird does happen to him, every pay phone he passes rings and finally decides to answer one.

"Hello?" he inquires, curious as to why the phones keep ringing. According to his senses there was no one nearby that was alerted to his presence

"There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?" a man's voice comes across the phone, it is well cultured and even.

He frowns, again focusing his senses outwards, both his human and wolf abilities but still not seeing a person anywhere. "Who's this? Who's speaking?"

"Do you see the camera, Doctor Watson?" the man's voice asks again, ignoring his question.

He looks out at a CCTV camera that is currently pointed at the phone box.

Voice soft as he focuses he replies, "Yeah, I see it."

"Watch," he is told and the camera suddenly swivels away, "There is another camera on the building opposite you. Do you see it?"

Annoyed with the power play of the unseen force, he hums his response rather than speaking it when he spots the second camera.

As soon as he does so that camera also swivels away. "And finally, at the top of the building on your right."

He glances towards it, his eyes catching it almost immediately just before it turns away. Maintaining a military calm voice he inquires, "How are you doing this?"

"Get into the car, Doctor Watson." The man on the other end tells him as a black car pulls up to the curbside near the phone, the driver quickly gets out and grabs the door, opening it for him. "I would make some sort of threat, but I'm sure your situation is quite clear to you." the voice tells him right before the line goes dead.

For a moment he watches the man holding the car door, eyes narrow as he considers his next motion. Taking a deep breath he inhales all of the scents in the area but focuses on those nearest him dealing with the car. The man holding the door is plain human, there is not a drop of shifter in him. There is a female scent in the vehicle, also without shifter blood, but not quite human, smells like one of the gifted, or the offspring of a gifted. Linked to that female scent is a vaguely familiar male scent that makes him curious. Narrowing his eyes he decides to follow the directive given to discover the source of the familiar scent.

When he gets into the car the first thing he spots is a dark-haired woman, carefully maintaining an even breathing pattern he takes in her scent, noticing that she is the one he can smell with gifted blood, though he cannot tell if she is gifted or not. She is also the source of where the other familiar male smell is, so it must be someone she is around a lot.

"Hello," he greets her, being polite.

She glances up from her phone, a bright if somewhat fake smile on her face, "Hi."

After a moments pauses he inquires, "What's your name, then?"

Her glances flickers from her phone for a moment as she replies, "Er ... Anthea."

Even if she had not paused before saying it, her scent gave away the fact she was lying, still might as well play dumb. "Is that your real name?"

She smiles again, "No."

He nods, looking around and through the windows for a moment before commenting, "I'm John." _There is a possible gifted one._ He uses the common telepathy link between the pack mates, directing it to the one closest to him, his watcher of the day.

_**I'll follow**_, he hears whispering softly through his mind in response.

_Be cautious_, he replies.

"Yes, I know." She tells him without her eyes leaving the phone.

Mildly sarcastic he inquiring, "Any point in asking where I'm going?"

"None at all," she tells him, pausing for a moment to smile at him before returning to her phone, "John."

He gives a small smile and a nod, replying, "Okay," and settling back into the seat. He knows that high above them they are being tracked by at least one owl who will not lose his location and will report to the others if there is any sort of problems. The really nice thing about a mixed pack, other packs never knew what to expect and the variety of missions they could do was far greater.

After a bit they pull into a warehouse parking lot, it seems to be empty. When the car stops the driver does not open the door this time, instead he stays in his spot as John opens the door and gets out, taking a deep breath as he does so. His eyes, while not as sharp as Sherlock's still manage to take in the surroundings and every escape route he could take if needed. He can hear the soft hoot of Edward above him. In front of him is a taller man, darker haired, leaning against an umbrella with a chair in front of him. Slowly he makes his way towards him.

"Have a seat, John." The man directs him, using his umbrella to motion towards the chair.

John ignores the directive, catching his scent on the air as he speaks. It is the same voice as the phone, and he is the one with the familiar scent though he knows he has never met him before so why? Still moving towards him he flippantly comments, "You know, I've got a phone." He then pointedly looks around the warehouse area before continuing, "I mean, very clever and all that, but er ... you could just phone me. On my phone."

_**Safe? **_Edward inquires, watching from his perch.

_For now._ He replies, they are both keeping it short in order to not alert the possible gifted one to their conversation. As he speaks with Edward he continues to walk, bypassing the chair and coming to stop directly in front of the man.

"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place." The strangers voice chances from cultured to annoyed, though it is such a mild change that had he not been listening for it he probably would not have heard it as he continues speaking, "The leg must be hurting you. Sit down."

Tone reverting to serious, he responds, "I don't wanna sit down."

A small smirk curves the man's lips as he remarks, "You don't seem very afraid."

Eyes never leaving the man, he gives quick shake of his head, "You don't seem very frightening."

Apparently that amuses the stranger because he gives a short chuckle before stating, "Ah, yes. The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?" His expression changes to serious as he inquires, "What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?"

His expression stays the same flat neutral it has been since deciding to forgo the sarcasm. This stranger is not pack, despite the familiar scent, he has no claim to John's knowledge, and with such, he feels no reason to enlighten him. "I don't have one. I barely know him. I met him…" his voice trails off as if considering it, "yesterday." He is well aware of when he met him, just as he is well aware of something going on that he was now going to have to figure out because there would be no threats to his pack and he was determined to being Sherlock within that mantle.

"Mmm, and since yesterday you've moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" the man inquires, tone slightly sarcastic.

"Who are you?" he inquires of the strange man, taking another deep breath. It is on the edge of his mind who he is, what the connection is but it is not clicking into place for some reason.

The cultured tones return, "An interested party."

Keeping his tone causal despite the seriousness, he questions, "Interested in Sherlock? Why? I'm guessing you're not friends."

The man's voice softens a bit, "You've met him. How many 'friends' do you imagine he has? I am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having."

Because none of you fools seem to realize his worth, he thinks to himself, though aloud he queries, "And what's that?"

"An enemy," the stranger answers, tapping his umbrella against the ground.

"An enemy?" he repeats, his mind snorting even though he says nothing more, waiting to see if there will be an explanation

"In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his arch-enemy. He does love to be dramatic." The stranger puts emphasis on his and arch as if it means something.

Rolling his eyes, he pointedly looks around the area before sarcastically commenting, "Well, thank God you're above all that."

As the stranger frowns at him, his text message alert goes off and he digs his phone out of his pocket. He ignores the man in front of him as he reads the message.

-Baker Street. Come at once if convenient.- SH

He smiles internally, as the man comments, "I hope I'm not distracting you."

Glancing up he causally responds, "Not distracting me at all." As he shifts the phone back into his pocket.

The stranger fidgets as he asks, "Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?"

"I could be wrong," he pauses as he locks eyes with the stranger, "but I think that's none of your business."

"It could be."

Still locked on to the stranger he states, "It really couldn't."

"If you do move into, um," he starts as he is pulling a small journal like book out of his pocket, "two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street, I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way." He snaps the book closed, putting it back within his pocket.

"Why?" is John's query, eyes not yet having left the strangers face.

"Because you're not a wealthy man."

Right, he thinks, you want me to spy, but he keeps playing dumb, "In exchange for what?"

Again the stranger fidgets, "Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel," he pauses for a moment as if considering his words, "uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he's up to."

"Why?" his tone has returns to serious, the casualness gone.

"I worry about him. Constantly." The stranger answers locking onto John's eyes while replying.

Taking a breath he can smell that the stranger is being mostly truthful, but he still does not trust him, so he insincerely responds, "That's nice of you."

Glancing at his feet the stranger comments, "But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a," he lifts his umbrella to look at the point, "difficult relationship."

Again his phone chirps at him that he has a text, and again he pulls it out and looks at it.

-If inconvenient, come anyway.- SH

His amusing flatmate, apparently he wants something and wants it now if the text is anything to go by. He should probably learn patience, not that he thinks that will happen. "No." he informs the stranger.

A slightly curious scent comes from him, mixed with bafflement, "But I haven't mentioned a figure."

Tucking the phone back in his pocket he replies, "Don't bother."

A dry chuckle escapes the stranger as he remarks, "You're very loyal, very quickly."

Looking back at him with the serious expression back on his face, he informs him, "No, I'm not. I'm just not interested." Even if it was not his potential bondmate he would not accept the offer because it would be rude to do so.

"Trust issues, it says here," the stranger remarks as he pulls his little journal like book out again and flips through it. "Shifter, but not what type."

A slightly confused look crosses his face as he looks at the man, so he is someone in a place of power then. Because both of those are on his sealed file, his medical sealed file and his military sealed file. "What's that?"

Still glancing through the notes in his books he inquires, "Could it be that you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?"

Retaining his serious tone, he just about demands, "Who says I trust him?" Thinking, I trust him more than I trust you.

The stranger keeps going as if he had not said anything, "You don't seem the kind to make friends easily."

"Are we done?" he demands, his patience with this stranger gone. He is not accustomed to answering for his opinions and does not plan to start now.

The stranger lifts his head, looking him in his eyes. "You tell me."

For a moment the alpha in him wishes to force this human into submission and he stands perfectly still watching him before doing an about face and walking away.

He is several feet away when the stranger's voice floats over to him, "I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that's not going to happen."

He stops dead in his tracks, all visages of patience seem to be evaporating, giving a shake of his head he snaps, "My wot?" annoyed as he turns back towards the stranger, just barely keeping from baring his sharp teeth at him.

The strangers scent is full of condescendence, as he calmly states, "Show me," motioning to his left hand and planting his weight against the umbrella.

He can tell that this man is used to being obeyed, but then, so is he as an alpha. There is no way he is going to give this particular human the upper hand, his instincts tell him not to. Instead he plants his feet and lifts his left hand up so the back of it is facing him. Currently his wrist and the potential bondmark on it is facing away from the stranger, and covered by his shirt.

The stranger steps over to him, reaching out to take his hand which he quickly jerks back, "Don't," but the stranger gives him a challenging look so he holds his hand out flat, palm down.

Carefully the stranger takes hold of his hand, moving it around, before watching it for a moment and commenting, "Remarkable."

"What is?" he just about demands as he pulls his hand back, his sense of smell taking in the strangers and finally connecting the realization, it is familial blood scent. To be exact, brother blood scent. This is the elder brother, the one who went into politics. There are several choice things he wishes to say to him but he keeps his tongue, continuing to play dumb so that he can collect more information. His mind whirls quickly, recollecting the information. The elder is Mycroft.

Mycroft turns and walks away a bit, then he starts to speak again, "Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield." He pauses, turning towards John again. "You've seen it already, haven't you?"

"What's wrong with my hand?" he queries.

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand." Mycroft answers him, "Your therapist thinks it's post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service."

He nods once in acknowledgement, though he stares off past the elder brother, a tic in his cheek the only sign of his current anger. He will have to see about getting his files better protected. When he speaks he cannot maintain a neutral tone, and his voice is full of anger, "Who the hell are you?" he snaps, taking a breath to calm himself, "How do you know that?"

_**Elder? **_Edward inquires, sending concern through the link.

_I'm fine, _is his tense reply.

"Fire her. She's got it the wrong way round. You're under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady." The entire time Mycroft is speaking his focus is purely on him, his voice retaining the cultured tones from the beginning of the conversation. "You're not haunted by the war, Doctor Watson, you miss it." he leans forward a bit, his voice lowering, "Welcome back."

Through it, the only thing John could do was keep his temper about him, now was not the time to be showing his hand about being the alpha wolf that he was. The scent in the air was angering him almost as much as the person in front of him, particularly since he was the cause for most of it. As the elder brother walks away he holds himself still for a moment, regaining the control that was slipping a bit more than he appreciated.

As his phone trills to inform him of a third message, Mycroft calls to him, "Time to choose a side, Doctor Watson."

The dark haired woman gets out of the car behind him, taking a few steps towards him and commenting, "I'm to take you home."

Pulling his phone out of his pocket he checks the message, certain that he knows who it will be from.

-Could be dangerous.- SH

He smiles as he tucks the phone back in his pocket, checking the fact his hand is not trembling for the first time since he got shot. Turning towards Anthea, he heads towards the car.

"Address?" she requests as they get in.

"Er, Baker Street, two-two-one B Baker Street." He tells her, a smile still curving his lips, life is about to get interesting.

The ride back goes quietly, his mind carefully shielded as he considers what he knows and debates about how to get more information. Information is what keeps a pack safe, and despite the fact Sherlock is not formally part of the pack yet, he is still pack, and that means information is needed to keep him safe. Perhaps he should have Cyanne find out all the information that she can, she is particularly good at it, plus has a special gift for remembering.

Since he is still playing dumb he asks them to stop off where he had been staying and rearranges his clothes to make his gun just a little more noticeable before they head off to the flat.

When he gets to the flat he inquires, "Listen, your boss, any chance you could not tell him where I went?"

"Sure," she answers easily enough but he can smell the dishonesty in it.

"You've told him already, haven't you?" he asks with a slightly frustrated look on his face.

"Yeah," she answers with a smile, looking away from her phone briefly.

For a minute he flirts with her, mostly because it is the expected thing to do, partly because he feels like it but he knows before he even opens his mouth that nothing is going to come of it. Afterwards, when the car is gone and he is getting ready to go in he smiles again, oh yes, having Sherlock as a flatmate will be particularly interesting if this is going to be a normal day for him.


	6. Texting the Murder

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed)._

_A great big thank you to the new people who put me over twenty people who are following, you all are awesome._

* * *

_Chapter 6  
__John's POV_

When he gets into the apartment Sherlock is stretched out on the divan, head facing towards the window on a pillow, with his jacket stripped off, and his sleeves unbuttoned. For a moment he admires the view, noticing that he is pressing his right hand firmly against his left arm just below the elbow. For some reason he keeps clenching and unclenching his fist.

Curious, he inquires, "What are you doing?"

The dark-haired human's eyes snap open as he pushes his sleeve up, revealing three nicotine patches as he answers, "Nicotine patch, helps me think," in a calm manner. Sighing he continues, "Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work," clicking the k-sound in the work.

Stepping a little further into the room, he takes a quick sniff of the air, noticing no new scents that he can detect. Sherlock seems to have mellowed out a bit, "It's good news for breathing."

Dismissively Sherlock comments, "Oh, breathing, breathing's boring," as he stretches his arm out again before refolding it.

Limping from the door to where the dark-haired human is laying he inquires, "Is that three patches?" frowning as he glances at his arm with the circles on it.

Steepling his hands beneath his chin, the dark-haired human mutters, "It's a three patch problem," keeping his eyes closed.

For a moment he paces the room taking it in and enjoying the scent of it, familiarizing himself. Finally, after a few minutes of silence he wonders what the text message was about and stops next to the lanky human, "Well?" He remarks to the silent human, waiting a moment before continuing, "You asked me to come. I'm assuming it's important."

After several silent seconds while the dark human stays perfectly quiet on the sofa, his eyes snap open and he answers, "Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?" He stares directly at the ceiling, not once tilting his head to look towards him.

Curious, he repeats, "My phone?"

"Don't wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognized. It's on the website." Sherlock still has not moved from where he is stretched out.

Glancing towards the door, he comments, "Mrs. Hudson's got a phone."

In a bit of a rush he answers, "Yeah, she's downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear."

A slightly annoyed look crosses his face as he considers the dark-haired human, slightly aggravated by the night he allows it to infuse his voice though Sherlock does not seem to notice. "I was on the other side of London."

"There was no hurry," he remarks mildly, contradicting what he had said in the text message when he wanted him to come sooner than later.

His eyes narrow as he considers the lanky man before fishing his phone out of his pocket to hand to him. While he is aggravated, it is more by the brother than he is by him. Most of the aggravation that he is allowing to the surface right now is to see how the tall man will react to it. So far he hasn't, either he is oblivious or ignoring it. According to the scent in the air he is deep in thought and mildly frustrated.

"Here," he remarks, holding it out.

Without opening his eyes, Sherlock lifts his right hand out, palm up and waits patiently for him to place it on his palm. After he does so, the lanky human refolds his hands under his jaw and continues to think with his closed.

Pacing around the room for a bit, he just about prowls. His need to get his scent in the room is driving him slightly up the wall. Finally, after he feels like it is more of a home than it was he stops and inquires, "So what's this about, the case?"

His sharp ears barely pick up, "Her case," as the human softly murmurs.

"Her case?" he repeats in his normal tone.

Eyes opening in a snap, the lanky human responds, "Her suitcase, yes, obviously," he pausesx1 eyes flickering towards him, "The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake."

"Okay, he took her case, so?" he queries, his voice losing the edge to it as he watches the dark-haired human think.

Murmuring to himself, Sherlock doesn't answer, instead he comments to himself, "It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it." Stretching his arm back out towards him, he informs him, "On my desk there's a number, I want you to send a text."

The wolf in him raises his hackles at this human who dares to order him around. There have been too many of them today trying to do that that did not deserve to. His tone reflects that as he tightly remarks, "You brought me here," he pauses for a breath, "to send a text." He makes it a statement instead of a question in his frustration.

Sherlock does not seem to notice the annoyance though and repeats part of it back at him, "Text, yes. The number on my desk."

Giving a small shake of his head, he takes the phone and glances around the room before deciding to check out the window. Directly across the way, perched on the roof is a giant dark brown owl, human eyes would not have seen it but his wolf eyes noticed it quickly. Scanning the surrounding area he checked to see if the car was anywhere nearby while his patience returned. He is an alpha, not just an alpha, but an elite alpha. The only humans he had ever taken orders from where those whom he had sworn to obey, and even then he was good at not breaking his oath while avoiding idiotic orders. It was one of his strong suits actually. Still, patience was needed. His potential bondmate seemed to have a difficult time being patient or polite, past that he got the impression that it never really went well for him on the occasions when he tried. A low growl escapes him at the idea of someone intentionally hurting his bondmate, even if the bond is not established yet.

For his part, Sherlock had gone back to his eyes closed, hands together position on the divan. So when he opens his eyes and tilts his head, John can't help but admire the slender neck as he glances his way. "What's wrong?" he asks, confusion entering the air.

"Just met a friend of yours," he answers him.

The confusion worsens, overwhelming his other scents, "A friend?" even his voice is full of confusion.

"An enemy," he tells him to see what the dark-haired humans reaction would be.

Immediately the confusion is gone, replaced instead by a mild case of excitement, though his voice is calm as he asks "Oh, which one?" returning to how he had been positioned.

Narrowing his eyes at the dark-haired human he decides he will have to reflect on the fact he seems more comfortable with enemies rather than friends later. "Your arch-enemy," he pauses clearing his throat once and glancing at the floor, "according to him." Turning from window to face him, he inquires, "Do people have arch-enemies?"

Again the dark-haired human tilts his head to look at him, this time his eyes slightly narrowed as he queries, "Did he offer you money to spy on me?"

He nods once as answers, "Yes."

"Did you take it?" Sherlock inquires, still watching him.

"No." he answers with a very small shake of his head.

"Pity, we could have split the fee," he murmurs in response as he goes back to how he is laying before quickly jerking his head back towards him as he comments, "Think it through next time," before returning to how he had his head.

Lifting his head to look back out the window, he questions, "Who is he?" as if he does not know, because he is curious whether his potential bondmate will say anything about the fact it is his brother or not.

He murmurs his answer softly, "The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem right now." Suddenly his voice gets a bit louder, back to its normal tone as he comments, "On my desk, the number."

Through it his scent had went from frustrated to amused to annoyed, making him wonder why the idea of a friend confuses and frustrates him so much. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that he has a hard time connecting with people. Giving a mental shake of his head, he heads over to the desk and tracks down the number on it. "Jennifer Wilson. That was…" his voice trails off for a moment as he realizes it was the dead woman's name. "Hang on, wasn't that the dead woman?" he inquires just to make sure.

Without moving from his spot, Sherlock replies slightly impatiently yet still calmly, "Yes, that's not important. Just enter the number."

Shaking his head with a small smile, he starts entering the phone number when the dark-haired human impatiently demands, "Are you doing it?"

"Yes," he replies as he continues.

"Have you done it?"

"Ye…" he begins snapping, "hang on!" as he finishes typing it.

He had just finished the last number when Sherlock begins to speak, "These words exactly: What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out." His tone is slow and even as he speaks, and he remains perfectly still on the divan. "Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come."

He had just gotten to 'blacked out' when he glances over at his human in concern, had he missed something? "You blacked out?" he queries softly.

"What?" the dark-haired human questions before realizing the question and tilting his head to look at John, "No. No!" Getting rapidly to his feet he walks over the low coffee table and into the kitchen, telling him, "Type and send it, quickly." In the kitchen he grabs a small pink suitcase off of a chair and brings it into the living room, inquiring, "Have you sent it?"

"What's the address?"

Impatiently he repeats the address while setting the case down and flipping it open to look through it again as he perches in one of the chairs.

Catching the smell of the dead woman, John turns and stares mildly shocked, at the suitcase that the dark-haired human is sorting through. "That's…" he trails off for a moment, "that's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case." There is only two other human scents attached to the case, one is Sherlock's, probably from handling it, the second is an unfamiliar human males. Since he is certain that Sherlock is not the killer, that means that the smell belonging to the stranger must be the killer instead.

"Yes, obviously," the dark-haired human remarks as he stares at it, his hand resting together, fingers laced, elbows on his knees. After a moment's silence, he glances his way and somewhat sarcastically comments while tilting his head from side to side, "Oh, perhaps I should mention: I didn't kill her."

Eyes narrowing on his face, he voices, "I never said you did."

Curiosity colors Sherlock's face as he queries, "Why not?" he take a breath and starts speaking quickly, "Given the text I just had you send and the fact I that have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption."

"Do people usually assume you're the murder?" he asks the dark-haired human watching him, and keeps track of the scent in the air.

Smirking slightly, as if he is used to it, he bounces up, using his hands on the arms of the chair to perch in the seat on the balls of his feet as he responds, "Now and then, yes." Again he clasps his hands together beneath his jaw.

"Wrong scent," he informs him as he walks around to the other chair, "Okay," he begins before dropping into the armchair, "How did you get this?"

Again his scent changes to curious for a moment before refocusing on the case, "By looking."

"Where?" he asks, intrigued by his mind.

Using his hands to emphases what he is saying, Sherlock responds, "The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car." He glances towards him, eyes bright with excitement, "Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention , particularly a man, which is statistically more likely, so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it." Again he glances his way, "Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens, and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed." He pauses again to take a breath, "Took me less than an hour to find the right skip."

Impressed, he questions, "Pink. You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?"

"Well, it had to be pink, obviously." The dark-haired human declares, glancing his way and spreading his hands before him for a moment as if motioning to the case.

Muttering to himself, "Why didn't I think of that?" he wonders. His mind trying to see the connections and not getting them nearly as quickly as Sherlock had.

Absently Sherlock answers him, "Because you're an idiot," which causes him to jerk towards the taller human, startled. It has been a very long while since anyone has called him an idiot. Before he can make any sort of comment however, the dark-haired human is waving a hand in his direction, he can smell the minor concern coming from as he expresses his opinion, "No, no, no, don't look like that. Practically everyone is." His attention switches back to the case as he asks, "Now, look. Do you see what's missing?"

Looking over the case he tries to determine what is missing but is not sure what sort of thing he is looking for, "From the case? How could I?"

The both of them glance at each other at nearly the same time, as Sherlock answers the question, "Her phone. Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there's no phone in the case. We know she had one, that's her number there; you just texted it." He uses his body, primarily his hands and face to express himself further.

Frowning, he glances down and then back at the dark-haired human as he responds, "Maybe she left it at home," though something tells him that is not the correct answer. Not if everything the human next to him had said earlier in the day was correct, which at this point it seemed to be.

Shifting to sit properly in the armchair again, Sherlock declares, "She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home." Then he returns the paper with the contact information to the case and glances towards him expectantly, his scent full of energy and excitement.

"Er…." He begins, before deciding to ask, "Why did I just send that text?" as he glances at his phone. Something tells him that he just texted the person who has her phone, the person who killed her, but would his potential bondmate really do something that could be that reckless?

"Well, the question is: where is her phone now?" his expression as he inquires is the happiest he has seen it yet.

"She could have lost it," he suggests, watching Sherlock.

"Yes or…." He trails off, his voice hissing the 's'.

Taking his time to answer, he slowly says, "The murderer..." he suggests, "You think the murderer has the phone?" He is startled by the fact it seems to please the dark-haired human that he has figured it out. _I think I will be hunting tonight, _he tells Edward, _it should be safe enough. _

_**Alright, but I will still be tracking, you know the senior gets pissy when we do not do our duty. **_Comes the soft reply.

"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone." The dark-haired human explains.

John smiles a bit, he was right as to where this is going, "So I just texted a murder and you want to try and find him using the phone?"

Before the tall human can say anything, John's phone starts going off, but it does not say who is calling.

Speaking softly he comments, "A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer," he pauses for a moment, allowing the phone to fall silent, "would panic." Flipping the suitcase shut as he stands, Sherlock grabs his jacket, heading towards the door as he pulls it on.

Well then, hunting it is, he thinks to himself staring at the phone for a moment. Out of curiosity he inquires, "Have you talked to the police?"

Slender fingers pull the jacket straight as he replies, "Four people are dead. There isn't time to talk to the police."

Slightly more curious, particularly since humans tend to allow the police to deal with things normally, not do it themselves, he inquires, "So why are you talking to me?"

Grabbing his belstaff off of the back of the door the dark-haired human answers, "Mrs. Hudson took my skull."

He glances over to the fireplace where the skull had been resting, now it was nowhere to be seen. "So I'm basically filling in for your skull?"

Pulling the coat on over his suit, he flippantly remarks, "Relax, you're doing fine." As he tugs the last of it on and flips the collar he queries, "Well?"

John glances at him, "Well what?" As rule the shifter stay out of human affairs, unless they take a public service job such as police officer, so he is pretty much waiting for the invite he is sure is coming from the tall human to join the hunt. Part of him wonders how long it will be before his curiosity finally kicks in because he knows that will eventually occur.

"Well, you could just sit there and watch telly." The dark-haired human observes suggestively.

He smiles to himself at the tone, "What, you want me to come with you?"

Putting his scarf on, the tall human voices, "I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud. The skull just attracts attention, so…" his voice trails off as he notices his smile, "problem?"

For a moment he says nothing, staring at his cane instead, then with a shake of his head he comments, "I keep getting warned away from you because your trouble."

Rolling his eyes, the taller human comments, "And I said 'dangerous', and here you are." He spins on his heel, heading out the door.

The lingering scent in the room is one of curiosity, frustration, and excitement with just a little bit of Sherlock's person scent beneath it all. Life sure was going to be interesting with this particular human in his life. Shoving to his feet using his cane, he reflects, it might be painful, but at least it will be fun, before he follows the taller man out of the flat and onto the street.


	7. Conversation at Angelo's

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). Thanks again for the reviews, yay I hit the ten marker on here!_

* * *

_Chapter 7  
__John's POV_

The taller human apparently had realized that he would come because he has not gone far when John reaches outside. For a little bit the two of them walk in silence before he inquires, "Where are we going?"

"Northumberland Street's a five, minute walk from here." Comes the reply as the tall human fiddles with his gloves.

Curiously, he glances over at him inquiring, "You think he's stupid enough to go there?"

The dark-haired human's smile grows expectantly, "No, I think he is brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones. They're always so desperate to get caught." He answers, excitement coloring his tone, while his scent changes to one of pleasure.

Again he looks over at him, asking, "Why?"

Tilting his head towards him, the tall human explains, "Appreciation! Applause! At long last the spotlight. That's the frailty of genius, John: it needs an audience."

"Yeah," he murmurs, looking at the tall human with understanding. He knew that he wasn't just talking about the killer in this case. His scent was resigned as if it frustrated him but he would do that as well.

As they continued to walk, the tall human spins around on the balls of his feet, looking at everything as he observes, "This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go." By the time he finishes his spin, most of the resigned frustration was gone from his scent, replaced instead by curiosity for who could be hunting and how to make them the hunted.

With a burst of excitement he throws his gloved hands up by his face, just about shouting, "Think!" before returning to speaking normally, if fast, "Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?" his hands are still moving as he speaks and he continuously looks around.

Glancing towards him he responds, "Dunno, who?" Part of him is wondering if it is a shifter, but the second scent on the suitcase was human, not shifter, so that was unlikely.

Clasping his hands together in front of his face, the tall human shrugs with a small shake of his head, "Haven't the faintest, hungry?" Without waiting for an answer, his hands drop and he turns across the street, heading into a small restaurant.

Upon pushing the door open, the waiter at the computer greets him, motioning him towards a table by the window with a smile. According to the strangers scent he knows Sherlock and likes him, but is a bit intimidated by him.

"Thank you Billy," Sherlock distractedly tells the waiter as he removes his coat and gloves, laying them on the bench next to him as he takes a spot that allows him to see the building across the road. "Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it."

As he sits down, the waiter removes the reserved sign that had been on the table. Taking off his coat, he queries, "He isn't just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he? He'd need to be mad."

_**Are you still hunting?**_Edward asks, _**or would you like me to keep an eye out? Though what are you keeping an eye out for?**_

He chuckles mentally, responding, _I am not sure what we are keeping an eye out for, but Sherlock has determined that the killer we're hunting will show up near here, so he suggested food, and personally it is a good idea. Have you eaten or do you need something?_

A snort is his response, _**Silly human, why hunt who you do not know? Wouldn't it be better to know first? **_The impression of him shaking his head follows, followed by the answer to his question, _**Thank you, but no thank you, I ate prior to taking this form, plus Yana will be taking her turn guarding **__**you soon**_**. **

_Alright, _he replies, _have a good night Edward. _

_**Yourself as well, though may I assume that is your potential bondmate?**_ Comes the soft remark.

_Yes,_ he answers, still listening to Sherlock as he speaks with his pack member.

_**He is a good looking human, is there any shifter or gifted blood in him?**_The owl inquires curiously.

_No, he's purely human but has an amazing mind. _John answers pride evident in his mind-voice.

_**Good, then he will be a good elder-second. **_Edward remarks before cutting the communications link for the moment.

"He has killed four people," Sherlock responds to him, watching out the window curiously but also glancing at him.

Looking over at the tall human he murmurs, "Okay," before taking a discrete sniff of the air. There are not many people left in here, but they all seem to be human, he cannot smell shifter or gifted blood.

Before he can say anything else or comment on the situation, a taller man who looks well groomed comes over to them and takes Sherlock's hand in a quick shake as he greets him. There is a happiness to this strangers scent, and the desire to make others happy. There is also fondness in it, directed at Sherlock from what he can tell. "Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free." He tells them as he sets a pair of menus down, "On the house, for you and for your date."

Sherlock is smiling, but his scent is slightly flustered as he asks, "Do you want to eat?"

Glancing between the tall man and man standing next to him, he softly queries, "Is it a date?" when Sherlock's scent becomes confused, he takes it as a no, and tells the human standing there, "I'm not his date."

He is fairly certain that the stranger is not listening as he tells him, "This man got me off a murder charge," he also waves his hands as he speaks.

Still looking out the window, the dark-haired human fills him in, "This is Angelo." He pauses for a moment while the two men shake hands, "Three years ago I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking."

His scent is grateful as he comments, "He cleared my name."

Correcting him Sherlock says, "I cleared it a bit. Anything happening opposite?"

Looking over the road, Angelo answers, "Nothing," before returning his attention to him, "But for this man, I'd have gone to prison."

Still not looking at him Sherlock mutters, "You did go to prison."

"I'll get a candle for the table, its more romantic," the grateful man tells him as he walks away.

John merely smiles a bit frustrated, he has a pretty good idea that it will not do to repeat himself. While he is not against the idea of it being a date, he is well aware that the dark-haired human he is with is. His scent had changed, more concerned than not, at the suggestion that it was date even if his outwardly appearance had remained unchanged.

Setting his menu down, his companion suggests, "You may as well eat. We might have a long wait."

Almost as soon as he says it Angelo puts a small tea light in a bowl on the table, giving him a thumbs up. The human is excited that Sherlock seems to be here with someone, a rather fondness in his behavior.

"Thanks," he tells him, almost hissing it.

Several minutes pass in silence as Sherlock stares out the window at the building across the street and he considers what to get to eat. After finally deciding he puts his order in and considers the tall human. He is uncomfortable with emotions, particularly emotions directed at him or expected from him. In many ways he is reminded of one of the great cats. There is a streak of independence from him several miles wide, but the style of clothing says that he is a tactile person. Thus, he thinks, he would just have to find someone with whom he felt comfortable with in order to allow that second part of his nature to come to the surface. Well it is a worthwhile goal, probably one that will take him a good long while. That's alright though, patience is a catch word that all wolves understand.

He is still lost in his thought when the waiter sets his plate down in front of him, distractedly he thanks him. His mind still on the subject of his curiosity as the dark-haired human drums his fingers on the table. After taking a couple of bites of dinner, he comments, "People don't have arch-enemies."

Pulling out of his thoughts, his companion queries, "I'm sorry?" glancing his way.

Steadily he answers, "In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen."

Returning to staring out the window, the dark-haired human sounds bored as he responds, "Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull."

His tone is even as he inquires, "So who did I meet?"

A low amount of curiosity taints his scent as he asks, "What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives'?" His attention comes to him in focus, though there is disdain in his tone.

Nodding and completely serious, he replies, "Friends, people they know, people they like, people they don't like," he pauses look down at his food, "Girlfriends, boyfriends..." his voice trails off.

"Yes, well, as I was saying – dull." Disinterest fills his voice, along with the disdain.

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?" he asks, completely aware that he is fishing for information and not minding one bit.

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area." The disdain seems to have dropped from his tone, with surprise replacing it as if he was not expecting a question like that.

"Mm." he hums in understanding before tilting his head to look at him, "Oh, right." he pauses for a moment to consider it, "D'you have a boyfriend?"

The shock fills Sherlock's scent as his head jerks around to stare at him, the look he is giving probably would cause a lesser person to quake.

Offhandedly he remarks, "Which is fine, by the way."

Sharply, the tall human comments, "I know it's fine." While staring at him, keen eyes locked onto his face.

Smiling, he inquires again, "So you've got a boyfriend then?"

"No." comes the quick response with a small shake of his head.

The two of them fall silent for a few minutes as he continues to eat, and Sherlock returns to looking out the window, a slightly confused look on his face. Turning to face him a few minutes later, he just about babbles, "John, um... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not looking for any..." his scent is full of concern and a bit of confusion as he speaks.

"No," he interrupts the tall human before he can work himself into a panic attack, "No, I'm not asking. No." He gives a small shake of his head, clearing his throat, "I haven't known you long enough for one thing, and your scent says you're not open to the idea for another," he tells him softly. "I'm just saying, it's all fine" through it all, he keeps his eyes on the tall human, trying to project calming the same way he does when working in surgery.

Apparently it works because he starts to calm down, nodding once and muttering, "Good," then a little louder, "Thank you," before turning his attention back out to the street.

For a moment he looks at his potential bondmate with a bemused expression on his face, thinking, really, no need to panic. However that does make him feel that he might be correct in assuming that Sherlock has either never been in a relationship or the ones has had have been completely meaningless or harmful. His behavior is more like someone unfamiliar with the concept, rather than someone who had been hurt, so that is what he will continue to think.

A few more minutes pass while he eats and Sherlock continues to stare out the window. Finally, the tall human nods at the window "Look across the street. Taxi."

Twisting around to look, he spots a taxi parked in front of the address he had texted the victims phone with its back end facing the restaurant.

Still muttering, Sherlock keeps watching, "Stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out." His attention seems solely focused as eyes flicker. He can just about see the thoughts flying through the taller man's head as he watches, particularly since the male person in the taxi has not moved but is looking around as if spotting for something. "Why a taxi? Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?"

Despite the fact he is speaking aloud, John is certain that he does not actually want to be answered. So instead he asks, "That's him?" to see if had come to the right conclusion.

Distractedly, the tall human tells him, "Don't stare." His scent is shifting rapidly as he processes information.

Turning back towards the tall human he comments, "You're staring."

"We can't both stare," comes the reply as the dark-haired human gets to his feet, grabbing his coat as he does so.

Even before John has a chance to react further, he is on his way out the door, coat in hand as he pulls it on.


	8. Chase and Bust

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews, since I got the last chapter done a bit early I figured I would see if I could get this one done early too.  
_

* * *

_Chapter 8  
__John's POV  
_Growling under his breath, the alpha quickly gets to his feet, grabbing his coat and bolting towards the door without a second thought. The only thing on his mind was keeping up with his potential bondmate as much as possible to avoid something harming him. That looked like it was not going to be an easy task as Sherlock initially pulled his coat on and watched the cab carefully for a moment before heading towards it just as it began to pull away. Somehow he did not seem to notice the car that nearly smashed into him as he vaulted over the hood of it.

John apologizes to the driver of the car as he follows, trying to keep pace. A few yards down the road, his tall human stops. "I got the cab number," he tells the tall human.

"Good for you," comes his reply as he cups his head between his hands, muttering out loud as he figures out the route that the cabbie is going to take. He can just about see the thoughts running through the tall human's mind as he states each and every step along the way, suddenly, he jerks upright and takes off down the sidewalk. Only years of running allows him to keep up in any form with the taller human as he races through a building, shoving a person out of the way as he goes.

"Sorry," John tells the bloke as they rush up the steps.

From there the two of them take a variety of different buildings, ally's stairwells, roofs, roads, and sidewalks until they catch up with the cab. At one point he had balked at jumping from one building to another, but some prompting from the tall human has him following, allowing his wolf senses to take over the human form as he jumps. Above him he can hear Andrew laughing at the sight in his mind.

When the two of them catch up to the taxi, the dark-haired human stops it by jumping in front of it and shouting, "Police! Open her up!" Breathing heavily he tugs the backdoor open and stares at the person within, sighing in exasperation as he realizes it is not the correct person. "No." he mutters. He straightens for a moment before taking another look at him, muttering, "Teeth, tan: what – Californian?" glancing at the passengers luggage he continues, "L.A., Santa Monica. Just arrived."

"How can you possibly know that?" he demands of his potential bondmate as he catches his breath.

_**You're funny,**_Andrew tells him, _**guess what you forgot, guess you're feeling better aye elder?**_

He mentally rolls his eyes at the other shifter but a scent in the air catches his attention. Looking around he tries to figure out where it is from but cannot seem to do so.

"The luggage," the tall human replies, then turning his attention to the passenger, he queries, "It's probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?"

The man in the cab almost reeks of startledness, frustrated, and a bit fear. His voice is confused as he asks, "Sorry – are you guys the police?"

"Yeah," the tall human at his side replies, flashing an I.D. badge, "Everything all right?"

Smiling faintly the bloke answers, "Yeah," though his scent loses the edge of fear he and becomes more disbelieving.

"Welcome to London," his tall companion tells the human in the cab before starting to walk away.

For a moment he stands there still until stepping forward to inform the bloke, "Er, any problems, just let us know," before shutting the door to the cab and rejoining Sherlock where he had stopped walking part way down the block. "Basically just a cab that happened to slow down," he comments as he tries figuring out what that familiar scent is, it has gotten fainter since walking away from the cabbie.

"Basically," his tall companion answers frustration in his tone as he looks around carefully.

"Not the murderer," he expresses.

"Not the murderer, no." comes his short reply as he keeps looking around.

Glancing down he says, "Wrong country, good alibi."

"As they go." he mutters, his hands trading the I.D. back and forth distractedly.

Reaching for and closing his fingers around the I.D. he inquires, "Hey, where-where did you get this? Here," as Sherlock releases it to his hand, making sure his fingers brush against those longer ones as he does so."Right," he murmurs, catching the scent of shock in the air as he looks over the card, "Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

Smirking slightly, the tall human comments, "Yeah, I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that one, I've got plenty at the flat."

Looking down at the card the absurdness of it all makes him start to chuckle, and he can't help but grin at it.

Confusion mars the tall human's features and scent as he softly asks, "What?"

He manages to stop chuckling, but smiles up at the taller man answering, "Nothing, just 'welcome to London'." He gives a small shake of his head, still smiling.

Apparently the dark-haired man understands because he smiles back at him before glancing down at the end of the road where the guy with the cab is speaking with one of the police. "Got your breath back?" he queries.

Still smiling, he answers, "Ready when you are," and the two turn, taking off again at a run.

* * *

They have just turned onto Baker Street when John slows to a walk, and Sherlock noticing, slows down to join him. "I have an offer for you," he tells the taller human.

"What?" Sherlock inquires, curiosity changing his scent just a little from the excitement and thrill.

"I would like to offer you a place within the pack." His tone is serious, alpha to outsider.

The tall human stops moving and stares at him for a moment. In turn, he stops directly in front of him so that they are face to face. He can just about feel the thoughts turning through the over active mind of the dark-haired human but he is saying nothing in order to give him a chance to consider it.

"Why?" Sherlock inquires in that direct manner, but he can hear the curiosity and fear that it is only a cruel joke in his tone.

"One: it feels right in my instincts; two: I think you would benefit from it; three: I am sure your curious mind wants to know everything it can on the subject and we do not allow outsiders to know anything about us; and four: it would make things a lot simpler." He replies, listing off some of his reasoning. He could probably come up with more, like the fact that they are bondmates, the fact that he was wasted in the human world, but he prefers just to stick with the simple ones.

The tall human tilts his head sides a bit, watching him with wide eyes as he considers it. Again he can just about feel the thought processes going on in his head. "What type of responsibilities would I have to deal with?"

A smile curves his lips, he is pretty sure that the human has already decided to do it but wants to make sure that he is not signing himself up for failure. "All pack members help each other as needed, this includes with the teaching of pups. You do not speak of the pack to outsiders, which means you would know something your family would not." He doesn't mention the fact he already knows about both brothers, including the fact he realizes that the person who borrowed him earlier was the elder. "You do not intentionally harm the pack. That sums it up, I am the alpha so in matters of health I tend override other people when they are not taking care of themselves, the same can be said about safety matters."

He nods slowly, eyes still wide as he considers it. Finally, a smile curves his he replies, "I'd love to."

He nods once solemnly, "Welcome to the pack, the formal binding will happen tomorrow night, most of the senior pack members will be here, so expect a slightly full flat."

The tall human nods, before turning and returning to running to the flat. He grins, and bolts after him, eagerly looking forward to when he has a chance to show Sherlock a run on a wolf's back. When the two of them get into the flat, they both strip off their coats, John hangs his on a wall hook, while Sherlock hangs his off of the banister instead.

Finally, leaning against the wall, he mutters, "Okay, that was ridiculous." Sherlock joins him, leaning against the wall as well as the two just breathe for a moment, that last little bit was more of a run then the rest it seems. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done."

Somewhat seriously, the tall human comments, "And you invaded Afghanistan."

He laughs low in his throat, replying, "That wasn't just me." which causes the tall human to chuckle in response. "Why aren't we back at the restaurant?" he queries, curious as to the motivation for it.

His tall companion waves a hand dismissively as he answers, "Oh, they can keep an eye out, it was a long shot anyways."

A small frown crosses his features as he considers it, "So what were we doing there?"

The dark-haired human straightens up and clears his throat a bit, "Oh, just passing the time." He glances towards him, continuing, "And proving a point."

Curious, he glances at the tall human who has looked away from him, "What point?"

"You," he shortly replies, "Mrs. Hudson! Doctor Watson will take the room upstairs." As he says his name, Sherlock glances towards him with a small smirk.

Again the alpha in him bristles even though he had planned to do so, he really did not like being told what to do by a non-pack member. "Says who?" he almost demands.

The dark-haired human looks past him to the door, answering "Says the man at the door."

Just as he turns, he catches the scent of others in the building and looks towards the stairs but the quick knock at the door draws his attention back. Opening it, he is slightly surprised to see Angelo standing there with his cane in his hands.

"Sherlock texted me, said you forgot this," Angelo tells him as he hands it over.

Oh, he thinks, that's why Edward was laughing. How did I forget the cane? Internally he starts to chuckle, because really, it is rather funny. "Ah," he mumbles as he accepts the cane back, glancing back at Sherlock he is surprised to see the grin on his potential bondmate's face, "Thank you," he tells the human before stepping back in and shutting the door.

As soon as he does so, he catches the scent of other people again, this time actually identifying some of them. For some reason the detective inspector and several of men are in their flat upstairs. This is confirmed when Mrs. Hudson comes out of her flat and hurrying over to them, her scent full of sadness and confusion as she asks what he has done.

Confusion colors the taller man's tone as he queries, "Mrs. Hudson?"

"Upstairs," she tells him.

Taking three steps at a time, the tall human reaches the top of the staircase in nearly record time, throwing open the door to their flat as he does so. As soon as the door is open the smell of strangers becomes even more dominate and its all he can do to keep from growling in the back of his throat. It's not often that his territory as an alpha gets invade but he really in not taking it well. Particularly since he can smell the jackal-child detective inspector, the wolf-jackal omega detective, the shady human who she sleeps with, and several other humans in it, the two should know how dangerous a game that was.

When he gets to the top of the stairs Sherlock is standing in front of one of the armchairs that the detective inspector had pulled around to face the door, "What are you doing?" his dark-haired human demands, for a human he is a lot like one of the great cats in temperament.

Lifting his hands and motioning to the room he replies, "Well I knew you'd find the case, I'm not stupid."

_I don't know about that, _John mentally replies to him, surprising the other man according to his expression as he comes into the room.

"You can't just break into my flat," comes his flatmate's sharp response.

"And you can't withhold evidence. And I didn't break into your flat." Comes the quick response, he can just about feel the annoyance radiating from both of the men as they face off.

Snapping at the jackal-child, Sherlock demands, "Well, what do you call this then?" as he motions to the flat and all the people in it.

The detective looks around at everyone before giving a slightly sarcastic smile, answering, "It's a drugs bust."

The idea seems absurd to him, somehow he cannot picture his potential bondmate doing something so foolish, and he voices that opinion promptly. "Seriously? This guy, a junkie? Have you met him?" his tone is incredulous as he does so.

The jackal-child gives a smile as he watches Sherlock turn to face him, his face flushed and biting his lip in a rather endearing manner, "John…" his voice trails off. He can smell the embarrassment pouring off of him along with the anger and frustration.

He still glances past dark-haired human to the jackal-child and comments, "I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational."

Still embarrassed, the dark-haired human just about hisses at him, "John, you probably want to shut up now."

His focus switches from the jackal-child to his potential bondmate, taking in the expression on his face and his scent as he does so, "Yeah, but come on…" he begins, but something in those sharp eyes he is watching makes him stop, "No."

"What?" Sherlock demands, his anger spiked, but the embarrassment fading.

"You?" he responds, his mind whirling. He had probably done so out of loneliness, anger, frustration, sadness. It was something he had seen in shifters that were without pack, their minds would drive them insane until they would do anything to keep from feeling like that.

"Shut up," comes the angry response before he spins back towards the jackal-child and snaps, "I'm not your sniffer dog."

Nodding towards the kitchen he replies, "No, Anderson's my sniffer dog."

"What, An…" his voice trails off as the divider between the living room and kitchen is opened to show the worthless human he had met earlier. "Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?"

Malice taints the smell in the room as he answers, "Oh, I volunteered."

The anger pouring off of Sherlock seems to increase as he turns away, biting his lip. He is pretty sure that the tall human is having a difficult time dealing with all of the people here. Part of him wants to comfort is bondmate, another part wants to manually throw each intruder out of his territory, after ripping their throats out of course. Instead he does neither, keeping an eye out on all of the people and taking a place by the door.

Slipping his phone into his hand he sends off a couple of text messages while Sherlock deals with them.

-Jacob, find out everything you can on a jackal-child Gregory Lestrade.-JW

-Full moon meeting will be at 221B Baker Street. It is a rebonding, merging the packs.-JW he sends out the second one to everybody in the pack, happy that his sister had set his phone up for mass texting. A moment later his phone chirps several different times as he hears the various people chime in that they will be there.

-Bondmate? - HW

-He will be there, I am welcoming him into the pack but I am not telling him a thing about bondmates. I would prefer that it is not mentioned to him because I do not want him to feel pressured. - JW

-Makes sense. See you on then.- HW

-Mouse, you have a task, you want the Sigma title and here is your chance. My bondmate is human, knows next to nothing of our kind. You get to teach him, however say nothing of each members rank within the pack or the fact we're bondmates.-JW

-Of course! I accept Elder.- Mouse

By the time he is done with his text messaging, he is surprised to see Sherlock standing in front of him. His mind quickly replays the conversation up to the point they are at and he sighs in sadness for the loss of a child, even if the person in question is a stranger and dead.

"No, that's not…" Sherlock's voice trails off, "that's not right. How…" again his voice trails off, full of confusion, "Why would she do that? Why?"

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup – sociopath; I'm seeing it now." the pasty human comments snidely from the kitchen area.

His dark-haired human turns to face him, snapping, "She didn't think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt." He turns and stalks away from him, beginning to pace.

"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he... I don't know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow." John remarks as he watches his potential bondmate and aching for the stress pouring off of him.

Stopping mid step with a hand on his head, he replies curiously, "Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?"

The room falls deathly silent, everyone stopping what they are doing to stare at him. The scent of disbelief and anger overriding pretty much everything else in the flat. Sherlock glances around awkwardly, realizing that something isn't right.

Confused he asks John, "Not good?"

He glances around the room as well, taking everybody in and replying, "Bit not good, yeah."

Coming towards him, the dark-haired human drops the tone of his voice asking, "Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?"

He gives a small shrug answering, "Please, God, let me live."

Frustrated he looks at him funny, "Oh, use your imagination!"

Completely serious he responds, "I don't have to."

Shock fills the dark-haired humans scent as he realizes what John means, followed by regret that is quickly washed out by his frustration. "Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever ... Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever." Hands move as he speaks before he returns to pacing again, trying to think. "She's trying to tell us something." he mutters as he paces.

From the stairwell Mrs. Hudson comments, "Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock."

"I didn't order a taxi. Go away." he snaps at her as he continues to pace about.

"Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?" the older human female asks as she looks around the flat and all of the people in it.

Walking over to her, John tells her, "It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson."

Her eyes go wide and she touches her hand to her hip gasping, "But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers."

Finally, the frustration seems to be too much for the dark-haired human because he stops his pacing and throws his hands into the air yelling, "Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off."

"What? My face is?" the human sounds insulted.

Keeping an eye on him the jackal-child barks out orders, "Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back."

Grumbling, the pasty faced human complains, "Oh, for God's sake!"

"Your back, now, please!" the jackal-child orders him, trying to be politer than John ever would have.

Walking across the room, John stays quite and focuses on releasing a calming aura into the room. There is way too much stress going on in this small space and his alpha instincts really want him to get all the damn people out. Since that's not an option yet, he settles for calming them. He settles into his spot on the armchair and just focuses on relaxing.

"What about your taxi?" the older human female frets from her spot by the door.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock just about roars as he turns to face her, as the small woman heads back out of the flat a look of understanding finally crosses his face. "Oh," he mutters, smiling in delight, "Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!" again he is talking with his hands as he paces at a slower rate this time. "She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him." he stops glancing at all of them before continuing, "When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."

His scent changed from frustrated to pleased in the space of that one realization.

Confusion mars the jackal-child's voice as he inquires, "But how?"

"Wha...? What do you mean, how?" Sherlock demands staring at the jackal-child who just shrugs in response. "Rachel!" he exclaims as if it explains everything. "Don't you see? Rachel!" Again he puts emphasis on the name. When no one seems to understand him, he snaps sarcastically, "Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing." He pauses, his tone getting stern, "Rachel is not a name."

Just as sternly he inquires, "Then what is it?"

Before he takes a seat at the laptop, the dark haired human points to the suitcase saying, "John, on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address."

He turns to the suit case and reads the label aloud before getting to his feet and going over to where his potential bondmate is seated. As he is doing that, the dark-haired human is quickly typing and muttering to himself, explaining himself as he goes.

Sarcastically he states, "And all together now, the password is?"

"Rachel," he replies, standing directly behind him.

From his spot in the kitchen the pasty faced human remarks, "So we can read her e-mails. So what?"

Distractedly he tells other human, "Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street. We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It's a smartphone, it's got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man who killed her."

Once the information is entered, the dark-haired human gets to his feet, answering Mrs. Hudson who has commented again, the jackal-child, and just generally commenting. Taking his seat, John watches the little alert notice spin as it tracks it down. As a set of footsteps comes up the stairs a familiar scent catches his attention and he tunes out everything but that scent. Moments later a shrill voice echoes through his mind.

_**Elder, your human is getting into a cabbie. What do you want me to do?**_

His eyes widen as he realizes what the smell is, it's the cab driver from earlier when they chased the car, it is also the second human scent he had identified off of the bag when Sherlock first brought it in. _Follow them, will be behind you shortly. _

_**Understood. **_


	9. At Roland-Kerr Further Education College

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). This chapter is for all those awesome people who keep leaving me reviews and those new folks who put me at thirty followers, you're the best! _

* * *

_Chapter 9  
__Sherlock's POV  
_As the cab drives through the city, taking probably the worst route possible as it go, his mind whirls in the backseat. Hopefully John will understand before the detectives as to what he did and follow because he may need a bit of assistance and really does not want it from Scotland Yard. When they reach their destination the cabbie turns it off and gets out, coming around to open his door.

"Where are we?" he inquires even though he already knows the answer due to his knowledge of London.

"You know every street in London. You know exactly where we are." The cabbie driver answers, not falling for it.

Slightly confused he responds, "Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?"

A small smirk curves the older man's lips as he answers, "It's open; cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie: you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out."

Glancing around he inquires, "And you just walk your victims in? How?"

From his coat, the older man pulls out a pistol and points it at him. Realizing that it is a fake, he just rolls his eyes and looks away, "Oh, dull," he mutters exasperated.

Still holding the gun pointed at him, the other man comments "Don't worry. It gets better."

Speaking with disdain, he remarks, "You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint."

"I don't. It's much better than that." He pauses speaking, lowering the gun, "Don't need this with you, 'cause you'll follow me." With that he turns away and walks towards the building.

Grimacing in frustration at himself he does exactly what the older man had said and follows him.

* * *

_John's POV  
__**Elder, they are at Roland-Kerr Further Education College according to the sign. Do you want me to interfere?**_He hears faintly through the pack link as Yana updates him as to what is going on.

_No,_ he answers, all of the detectives and there people had already left both the flat and the street. Stretching, he makes sure that he has the unregistered gun on him before heading out of the flat. _Map please. _He requests, wishing to see the route taken by the humans to where they are at. A moment later his mind is filled with the aerial route, showing him everything from above. _ I am on the way. _

_**Alright Elder, I will keep watch.**_

Once he is on the street he takes off running without stopping to think about it, as he passes through a dark alley, he shifts, his rather small human body compacting and growing to become the alpha wolf form that he was born with. Focusing his attention on the air around him he uses the masking ability that many of their kind are born with and few ever use.

_**Do you need assistance?**_He hears his beta inquire as he runs down the roads, alleys and across roofs wherever needed or possible.

_**No, **_he responds, traveling far faster than one would think a giant wolf would be able to. Hopefully he can get there before the curiosity that so fills his bondmate causes him to do something stupid.

* * *

_Sherlock's POV  
_After walking through the college they stop in a classroom if the tables and chairs are anything to go by. Once inside it he stops to look around and the older human asks him, "Well, what do you think?" which has him just shrugging indifferently, it's a classroom after all. There is nothing particularly special about it. "It's up to you. You're the one who's gonna die 'ere."

Turning to face the older man he replies to that comment, "No, I'm not."

"That's what they all say." The cabbie informs him seriously, then motioning to one of the tables he queries, "Shall we talk?" before he takes a seat, pulling it out from the table without waiting for a response.

Pulling one of the chairs from the another table, he flips it around and reclines in it, crossing his ankles and folding his hands together as he watches the insane man. Sometimes it really is inconvenient the need to know everything, such as in this case the why. He sighs then inquires, "Bit risky, wasn't it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They're not that stupid. And Mrs. Hudson will remember you." As he speaks, he removes his gloves and tucks them into his pocket.

"You call that a risk? Nah." He reaches into his shirt pocket, pulling out a small glass bottle with a silver lid and a single speckle pill inside it, "This is a risk."

He just looks at it, assuming that it is the poison that the cabbie has been feeding to people but does not say anything about it. Generally if you sit quietly a person will talk just to tell you how smart they think they are and apparently this man was no difference judging by the fact that he does just that.

"Ooh, I like this bit. 'Cause you don't get it yet, do yer? But you're about to. I just have to do this." Then he reaches into a pocket on the other side and pulls out a second bottle. It seems to be identical to the first from what he can see at a glance. "You weren't expecting that, were yer?" the older man leans forward, saying, "Ooh, you're going to love this." Before settling back against his seat.

Without moving he questions, "Love what?"

"Sherlock 'olmes. Look at you! 'Ere in the flesh. That website of yours: your fan told me about it." the other man's body moves slightly from side to side as he speaks, his hands are tucked in front of him and he is doing nothing with the bottles.

"My fan?" he repeats curiously.

"You are brilliant. You are. A proper genius. "The Science of Deduction." Now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting 'ere, why can't people think?" he gives a small shake of his head, looking down as he mutters, "Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?"

When he is done speaking he looks at his face, catching his eyes. After a moment of thinking about it, he realizes that this cabbie seems to think that he is in the same playing field as him, that he is also a proper genius. Sarcasm fills his voice as he remarks, "Oh, I see. So you're a proper genius too."

The man continues to shake a little bit, rocking ever so slightly. "Don't look it, do I? Funny little man drivin' a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing you ever know."

Maintaining his glaze for a moment he considers the purpose of the pill bottles. If he is not mistaken he is playing Russian roulette with them, but wants to make sure that he is reading the situation right. There is something he is missing. He is just not exactly sure what yet. Glancing down at the bottle he comments, "Okay, two bottles. Explain."

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die." The cabbie explains, sounding rather pleased with himself.

As he looks at the bottle he notices that there seems to be nothing particularly different about them, "Both bottles are of course identical."

"In every way."

"And you know which is which." He states looking up from the bottles to the cabbie.

Annoyance begins to color the cabbies voice, "Course I know."

Still maintaining the same tone he remarks, "But I don't."

The fidgeting becomes worse, along with the frustration in his tone, "Wouldn't be a game if you knew. You're the one who chooses."

Raising his voice just a little as he looks at the cabbie he comments, "Why should I? I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?"

"I 'aven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one – and then, together, we take our medicine." His voice goes from frustrated to cocky towards the end of the sentence, as if he is always right and no one will ever prove him wrong.

A smile curves his lips at that challenge, because that's what it is. A challenge to whether or not he will do so, whether he will select the right bottle or not. The curious, need to know everything part of him considers doing so, while the coldly logical part tells him that it could be a trap.

"I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't." the cabbie tells him seriously, losing all infection to his tone.

He tilts his head to the side, his focus coming to rest completely on the two bottles and the pills within them.

"Didn't expect that, did you, Mr. 'olmes?"

Looking at the bottles still, he comments, "This is what you did to the rest of them: you gave them a choice."

His glance comes up to look at the cabbie as he states, "And now I'm givin' you one." he fidgets around in his seat a bit, "You take your time. Get yourself together." he pauses to lick his lips, "I want your best game."

His voice is full of disdain as he corrects the cabbie, "It's not a game. It's chance."

Placing his fingers on the left hand bottle he remarks, "I've played four times. I'm alive. It's not chance, Mr. 'olmes, it's chess. It's a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... this ... is the move." Then he pushes it forward so it is closer than the other one, continuing to say, "Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one." after he licks his lips again and leaves the bottle where he had just pushed it.

* * *

_John's POV  
_He had just reached the college and was shifting back as an owl lands next to him, changing into a young dark haired woman.

"Elder, I did not see which building they went into, I thought it was that one," she motions to the left, "but I cannot be sure, I am sorry." Her voice is soft as she apologizes, bowing her head.

He nods slowly once, "It's alright," he tells her looking between the, the buildings are identical and her sharp eyes are not as trained as Edwards for seeing through lights. "Return to your perch, I have to call the human authorities," he tells her as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials up Scotland Yard's number.

She nods, shifting into an owl and returning to the post above, her small body nearly un-seeable in the glare of the street lamp that she is perched on.

"I need to speak with Detective Inspector Lestrade," he tells the person who answers the phone, his tone serious. "It is important."

The person on the other end of the line dithers for a moment so he snaps at them, "It's an emergency!"

After a few moments the jackal-child comes onto the phone, "Detective Inspector Lestrade."

"Hello, Detective, it's John Watson, according to Sherlock's laptop he is at Roland-Kerr Further Education College with the killer. The cabbie was the murder." He tells the detective before hanging up the phone and tucking it back into the coat without bothering to wait to see if he was going to listen or not. Once the phone is in his pocket he tells Yana, _notify me if the authorities get here before I get out. _

_**Yes sir,**_ she replies.

Using his sense of smell he tries to determine which one they went into but for some reason he cannot get a good feel for it. To add to it, his connection to his human bondmate gives him an idea where he is but it seems to be near the middle area between the buildings, making it hard to tell which one in particular he is in. Frowning, he heads into the left one, following the link as best as he can. He debates about calling for him, but decides not to because it would ruin the element of surprise that he currently has going for him.

* * *

_Sherlock's POV  
_The cabbie glances again at the bottle before inquiring, "You ready yet, Mr. 'olmes? Ready to play?"

Sounding bored he replies, "Play what? It's a fifty-fifty chance."

The frustration is back in the cabbies voice as he raises it to speak over him, "You're not playin' the numbers, you're playin' me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?" as he speaks he leans forward, changing the pitch of his voice.

Disinterested he comments, "Still just chance."

"Four people in a row? It's not just chance." His aggravation continues to grow.

"Luck," he states, still maintaining the same tone. The pills are not actually as interesting as how the cabbie is reacting to the implication that he is not as smart as he thinks he is.

"It's genius. I know 'ow people think." The cabbie insists, causing him to roll his eyes even as he keeps speaking, "I know 'ow people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my 'ead." He looks like he is bored at the cabbie who just keeps on speaking, "Everyone's so stupid – even you." that catches his attention a little bit, not by much. "Or maybe God just loves me."

Straightening up and leaning forward, he murmurs, "Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie." As he folds his hands together on the table and watches him. Leaning a little bit more forward, he lifts his hands in front of his mouth as he watches the cabbie intently, "So, you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?"

The cabbie nods at the bottle, "Time to play."

Shifting the positioning of his hands to his long fingers tucked together like in prayer, still in front of his mouth, he drawls, "Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there's no-one to tell you." he watches as the cabbie fidgets again, "But there's a photograph of children. The children's mother has been cut out of the picture. If she'd died, she'd still be there." He relaces his fingers together and keeps going, watching the reactions that the cabbie has as he speaks, "The photograph's old but the frame's new. You think of your children but you don't get to see them."

For the first time since they started this game of cat and mouse the cabbie looks away, pain flashing in his eyes as he does so. "Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts"

He unfolds only his pointer fingers, lining them up to point as he drawls, "Ah, but there's more." And the cabbie meets his eyes once a more, "Your clothes: recently laundered but everything you're wearing's at least ... three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What's that about?" again the cabbie seems to have control of his emotions as he keeps his gaze on Sherlock, however all that does is allows him to figure out the next piece of the puzzle. His voice soften, barely over a whisper has he remarks, "Ahh. Three years ago – is that when they told you?"

"Told me what?" the cabbie asks flatly, but the harshness in his voice betrays the fact he is still very frustrated by his behavior.

"That you're a dead man walking." He replies just as flatly.

Angrily, the cabbie remarks, "So are you."

He tilts his head to the side, his voice soft as he comments, "You don't have long, though. Am I right?"

A tight smile pulls at the cabbies lips as he answers, "Aneurism." He uses his right hand to tap the side of his head, "Right in 'ere."

A satisfied smile curves his lips as he keeps listening to him. his motivation becoming far clearer to him. This isn't about living, it's about dying, and it is not about him, it's about his children. Somehow this insane cabbie is doing what he is doing for his family.

"Any breath could be my last." The cabbie finishes.

Frowning, he tries to understand the motive past the fact it is for his family but he is not seeing it, it's not yet connecting. "And because you're dying, you've just murdered four people."

Leaning forward the cabbie just about snarls, "I've outlived four people. That's the most fun you can 'ave on an aneurism."

He can tell that there is something more there, the cabbie would prefer that he thinks it is because he is dying, but that does not added up. "No. No, there's something else. You didn't just kill four people because you're bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow this is about your children."

Sighing, he mutters "Ohhh," as he looks away again, licking his lips before looking back at him and remarking, "You are good, ain't you?"

He rests his chin against his folded hands as he asks, "But how?"

Looking from side to side he answers, "When I die, they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs."

"Or serial killing." He murmurs.

The cabbie smirks, "You'd be surprised."

Dropping his hands onto the table, he commands, "Surprise me."

The cabbie leans forward, smirking again, "I 'ave a sponsor."

Steadily he asks, "You have a what?"

The cockiness from earlier returns, "For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they'll be. You see? It's nicer than you think."

He frowns, thinking about it for a bit, "Who'd sponsor a serial killer?"

"Who'd be a fan of Sherlock 'olmes?" he returns almost instantly. For a few moments they merely stare at each other before the cabbie remarks, "You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, except you're just a man ... and they're so much more than that."

His nose twitches in distaste at the idea of being just a man, "hat d'you mean, more than a man? An organization? What?"

Slowly he answers, "There's a name no-one says, an' I'm not gonna say it either." With a shake of his head he continues, "Now, enough chatter," glancing down at the bottles, "Time to choose."

Looking down at the bottles he considers the information for a moment, before looking back up at the cabbie and questioningly commenting, "What if I don't choose either? I could just walk out of here." He glances towards the door as he says that.

The cabbie sighs, a combination of exasperation and frustration as he lifts his pistol back up and points it at him again. "You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head."

Sherlock smiles calmly at that, knowing that it is not a real gun in his hands, but a lighter shaped like one.

"Funnily enough, no-one's ever gone for that option." The cabbie tells him.

Sounding bored he answers, "I'll have the gun, please."

Slightly confused the cabbie asks, "Are you sure?"

His smile is much like a predator, "Definitely. The gun."

Giving a small shake of his head he inquires, "You don't wanna phone a friend?"

Confidently he calls the cabbies bluff, still smiling, he enunciates each word, "The gun."

The cabbies mouth tightens annoyed as he pulls the trigger and the flame pops out of the end, frowning, he tilts it back so it is facing the ceiling and lets go of the trigger.

His smile becomes a smirk as he comments, "I know a real gun when I see one."

Turning it sideways the cabbie remarks, "None of the others did."

He looks back at the table before stating, "Clearly, well, this has been very interesting." He puts emphasis on the very, because he had been intrigued for at least a few minutes. "I look forward to the court case." With that he straightens and stand, striding confidently over to the door to leave.

The cabbie sets the lighter gun down and turns to face him, questioning, "Just before you go, did you figure it out..." his voice trailing off as he turns to face the cabbie, "which one's the good bottle?"

Smiling to himself he answers, "Of course. Child's play." Just leave, his mind tells him, you have the answers you need. There is no reason at all to keep playing this idiots game. But another part of him whispers to him, you want to make sure you were right don't you. Go on, find out if you were right.

"Well, which one, then?" the cabbie asks nodding towards them briefly, he starts to push the door open but goes no further as the cabbie continues, "Which one would you 'ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?"

He lets go of the door, allowing it to shut as he walks over to where the cabbie is and reaches for a bottle, his mind both encouraging him to do so and telling him not to all in one.

* * *

_John's POV  
_He had raced around most of the school, his link finally telling him he was within feet of his bondmate yet he does not see him anywhere. Finally glancing over at the other building he spots him, standing face to face with the cabbie, a pill in both of their hands. Frustrated he yells, "Sherlock!" but knows that he cannot hear him.

He watches in frustration and worry as Sherlock's hand shakes as he holds the pill in front of his face and slowly brings it towards his mouth.

Just before that pill reaches dark-haired humans mouth, he pulls his guns and fires, the bullet traveling straight and true through both layers of glass to go straight through the cabbies chest and out his back into the wall. Sherlock's hands are thrown up in surprise as the cabbie falls backwards, the pill flying off elsewhere.

Before he has a chance to be spotted, he tucks the gun away and retraces his path through the school getting outside and going a couple of blocks away before slowly approaching. He can hear the police cars as they blare, racing towards the scene.


	10. Afterwards

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). This chapter is for all those awesome people who keep leaving me reviews, you're the best! _

* * *

_Chapter 10  
__Sherlock's POV  
_For a moment he can do nothing but stare. Slipping over the table he leans over to look at the hole in the window before turning to look at the cabbie. Then the cabbie begins his death cough and he decides to try and force the information from him. With the lack of feeling that he is well known for he questions the dying man until he gets an answer to the question that is burning him up. He uses the heel of his boot to ground into the man's shoulder to force him to speak when the dying man does not want to cooperate with him.

Once the cabbie is dead, he makes his way out of the building and finds himself surrounded by a collection of various officials including both police and medical personal. One of the paramedics takes him over to the ambulance to check him over and gives him an ugly orange blanket as Lestrade comes walking over to him, his hands in his pockets.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me." he asks, motioning with his hands to the ugly blanket that he does not really understand.

Nodding once, the detective inspector replies, "Yeah, it's for shock."

Looking around he denies being in shock.

"Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs." The inspector answers, giving a small smile.

He rolls his eyes at them. For some reason they always want to harass him but he's not supposed to harass them back. Changing the subject he inquires, "So, the shooter. No sign?"

Lestrade gives a single shake of his head, commenting, "Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but..." he shrugs continuing, "got nothing to go on."

He looks at the detective inspector like he is an idiot, replying, "Oh, I wouldn't say that."

This time it is the detective inspector who rolls his eyes, telling him. "Okay, gimme."

Getting to his feet, he does so, "The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service… nerves of steel…" as he speaks he looks around and his voice trails off as he spots John, who he had wondered why he had not come. Now as he looks at his shorter flatmate the dots connect in his mind and he stops talking. "Actually, do you know what? Ignore me."

Confused by the sudden change in pace the detective inspector questions him, "Sorry?"

"Ignore all of that. It's just the, er, the shock talking." He says dismissively as he heads towards John.

"Where're you going?" the confusion is still strong in the detective inspectors voice.

Saying the first thing that comes to mind, he answers, "I just need to talk about the-the rent."

Frustrated Lestrade tells him, "But I've still got questions for you."

"Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" he just about whines, his voice showing his annoyance. He tugs on the blanket as if it proves it.

"Sherlock!" he groans, his tone whiny.

"And I just caught you a serial killer..." his voice trails off for a moment, "more or less."

For a moment Lestrade looks at him thoughtfully, crossing his arms on his chest he finally says, "Okay," then he nods once, "We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go."

When he turns away from the detective inspector he can see the hints of a smile playing about his lips however that is not currently his problem. Once he gets to where John is standing he takes the ugly blanket off, balling it up and throwing it in the police car as he ducks under the crime scene tape. As he stands and straightens his collar out John starts to speak.

"Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful." As he speaks the shorter man looks around slightly nervously, hands clasped behind his back.

For a moment he says nothing, then in a low voice so not to be over heard he thanks him, "Good shot."

The shorter man nods twice, replying, "Yes, yes, must have been, through that window." The look he gives him is completely innocent, if he had not been paying attention to his eyes.

Still quietly he responds, "Well, you'd know." His companion says nothing but he suggests, "Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case."

The shorter man clears his throat, glancing around at all of the officials before looking back at him.

Slightly concerned for John, he inquires, "Are you all right?"

He looks up at him answering, "Yes, of course I'm all right."

Feeling the need to point out of the obvious he comments, "Well, you have just killed a man."

He nods once, "Yes, I…" his voice trails off at the look he is getting before he resumes speaking, "That's true, innit?" Smiling, he nods once more looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again, "But he wasn't a very nice man."

Feeling better, Sherlock nods once in agreement, remarking, "No. No, he wasn't really, was he?"

With a serious a look on his face John comments, "And frankly a bloody awful cabbie."

That startles a chuckle out of him as he turns to walk away, "That's true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!"

This time it is John who chuckles while he smiles at his short companion. However he quickly gets control of his giggling and remarks, "Stop! Stop, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene! Stop it!"

Nonchalantly he replies, "You're the one who shot him. Don't blame me." as he tucks his hands into his coat pockets.

Donavan is passing them and gives them a funny look at that announcement, which has John quickly saying, "Keep your voice down!" to him and then to her, "Sorry – it's just, um, nerves, I think."

He glances her way, muttering, "Sorry."

Clearing his throat, John stops walking a bit away from the crime scene and demands, "You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?"

He stops, spinning on his feet to face the shorter man, answering, "Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up." he tells him, only partially lying, he was seriously hoping he was going to turn up before he did something stupid, like give into that voice that drives him to do things his rational mind says is completely dumb to do.

"No you didn't." John just about snaps his voice very serious, his posture that of a soldier, "It's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever."

Not admitting to anything he replies, "Why would I do that?"

With a lighter tone the shorter man answers, "Because you're an idiot."

He can't help but smile. Here is a person who understands at least a little bit about what he is like. It will be great to have someone like that around. Maybe his off days without any murders and crimes to solve will not be as boring any more.

* * *

_John's POV  
_"Dinner?" the tall human suggests as he suppresses the smile from his face. His scent is pleased, content even as he turns to start walking again.

Smiling at his potential bondmate he replies, "Starving."

"End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stays open 'til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle." The taller man comments as they go.

Not far in front of him a dark car has pulled up and Mycroft gets out of the vehicle. John acts surprised, muttering, "Sherlock. That's him. That's the man I was talking to you about."

Sherlock stops walking to glance over at him, his voice low as he answers, "I know exactly who that is." his scent changes to frustrated and angry as he walks over to his brother.

He glances around to make sure he knows where everyone is in case there is a problem. Above him he can hear the soft wing beats of Yana as she finds a new perch in order to be nearby to assist.

As they stop next to Mycroft he comments, "So, another case cracked. How very public spirited ... though that's never really your motivation, is it?"

His voice low the dark-haired humans inquires, "What are you doing here?" as he looks around.

The elder brother looks at him, evenly answering, "As ever, I'm concerned about you."

Eyes flickering towards him, his dark-haired human comments, "Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'."

The elder brother's scent is full of frustration as he queries, "Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no!" he flippantly responds, bending his knee to lower half his body for a moment before straightening back out.

He can do nothing more than watch as the two of them bicker back and forth. Finally, he gets tired of it and comments, "Really, for brothers the two of you need to work on your communication skills." This shuts both of them up and has them both giving him nearly identical looks of shock.

The shock doesn't last long before Sherlock recovers from his shock and sarcastically asks his brother, "Putting on weight again?"

"Losing it, in fact." The elder replies, his tone even but his scent embarrassed.

"So he's not..." he begins than trails off, knowing that it will catch both brothers attention. Sure enough they both look at him.

His dark-haired human asks, "Not what?"

A bemused look crosses his face as he answers, "I dunno – criminal mastermind?"

Glancing at his brother disparagingly the younger answers, "Close enough."

The elder's scent shifts again, this time including frustration in the mix, "For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government." He looks away as he speaks, as if trying to control his tone.

Pressing the point, Sherlock continues as if his brother had not spoken, "He is the British government, when he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis."

At the end of it Mycroft sighs, and he is sorely tempted to join him in doing so. These two are something else, he thinks.

Right before he turns away, his dark-haired human bids him farewell, "Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic."

John follows him, but stops to give the elder a slightly reassuring smile, "Don't worry, siblings always want to take shots at each other," he tells the taller man lightly.

"I really do worry about him," Mycroft tells him, watching as the tall man walks away.

He nods once, "I would to," he replies, "Goodnight." He comments before following the younger brother and not even bothering to say anything to the assistant with her head in her phone.

As he is catching up with his potential bondmate he can hear the two humans behind him speaking and smiles to himself about it.

"So: dim sum." He says when he gets right up next to him.

Smiling, his dark-haired human replies, "Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies."

Evenly he replies in disbelief, "No you can't."

Tilting his head a little he comments, "Almost can. You did get shot, though."

"Sorry?" he queries, the change of subject taking him a moment to catch up.

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound." The taller man explains as they keep walking.

Nodding once, he responds, "Oh, yeah. Shoulder."

"Shoulder!" he just about hisses in pleasure, "I thought so."

Smiling again he remarks, "No you didn't."

"The left one," he tall companion tells him with an air of know-it-all.

Still smiling he responds, "Lucky guess."

A low laugh escapes him as he answers, "Yes you do." Glancing over at his companion he notices the smile that graces his face but it is not what anyone would call a friendly smile for all that his scent is pleased, "What are you so happy about?"

"Moriarty," the tall human replies.

Curious he queries, "What's Moriarty?"

The pleasure in his scent seems to double right before he answers, "I've absolutely no idea."

The rest of the walk goes mostly quietly, both of them lost in their own thoughts.


	11. Full Moon

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). This chapter is for all those awesome people who keep leaving me reviews, you're the best! _

* * *

_Chapter 11  
__John's POV  
_When they had first gotten back from Chinese restaurant he had bid his flatmate and potential bondmate goodnight and headed up to his room where he shuts and locks the door. Stripping his clothes off, he stands in the middle of the room and shifts on purpose for the first time since he had been shot besides in the alley earlier this evening.

As he changes from human to wolf he can feel every bone, muscle, and sinew morph. The energy burning through him with a pleasure he had not felt in months. He had worried that his wolf would be comprised by the wound to his shoulder. That the damage would carry over to this form. Now as he stands in the middle of his room, his form that of a dire wolf he carefully looks himself over, observing that while his shoulder fur seems slightly different than it had been, he had not lost any range of motion or maneuverability.

Smiling to himself as he shifts back into his human form he stands there for a moment before putting on his pants and pajama bottoms then going to bed.

oOo

_Sherlock's POV  
_The morning of the pack meeting, John had convinced Mrs. Hudson that his sister was planning on holding a massive impromptu reunion and flat warming at their flat that night. At the idea of a large group of people around she had decided that it would be best not to be home when they showed up, so she had taken off and wasn't planning on returning until the next night.

Now as people of a variety of ages collected slowly into the flat, he was really wishing that he had the same option, but he had wanted to formally join the pack. The idea of being part of something like that was something he had dreamed about as a child when he had first heard of the shifters but as a human he had known it would never occur. Besides he liked the idea of knowing something that his brother did not, of having somewhere he belonged.

There were more people in his flat than he had ever expected to see at one time. He was surprised it was not setting his nerves on edge. Despite the amount of people in the flat however, it was mostly quiet with very little loud noises going on. There does seem to be a clear division though between two different groups. Closer to the door is the first group, a mixed group according to his keen eyes. They seem to all be soldiers. The other group, the second group seems to be different somehow but all share a common trait. He is considering trying to analyze them when the smallest of the people in either group appears at his side.

"A bit overwhelming at times I would imagine." Her voice is soft but bit higher pitched. "You must be the gifted human the Elder said was officially joining the nest. I'm Cyanne," she introduces herself with a smile.

He glances down at her slightly startled. "Nest?" he inquires, thinking about the fact that apparently John had mentioned him as a gifted human, not just a human.

She grins up at him, "Sorry, I should say pack because it is mostly wolves but I am a mouse who grew up within a proper nest, so I still refer to the pack as a nest." She pauses for a moment her gaze sweeping the room, "Actually I am the only omnivore in my animal form."

"And your animal form is prey according to the rest of us," the darkest colored one in the group comments stopping just a few feet away. "Welcome to our pack, don't mind the rodent, she is a bit of a chatterbox. I'm Hyder."

Looking at him, Sherlock can tell that he is of mixed origins, his tone and manner of dress is that of a wealthy British citizen, yet his looks hint at Middle Eastern blood-ties. His stance is much like John's, which screams soldier, and like the rest of the group that seems mixed his eyes are always moving, well aware of where everyone in the room is. Despite the joke about Cyanne being a rodent, he can tell that there is affection for her.

She smirks at the stranger before turning back towards him, "Old joke, as the only mouse in our nest, I spent one day travelling around in each of our nest mates pockets so that they could adjust to my scent and tell me from other mice. I will probably end up doing that with all the new nest mates as well, well if the Elder thinks I should."

The mouse, as Cyanne referred to herself, is one of those people who you could read everything about in her face. She didn't seem to have a single block on her emotions. She was in the military as well, though he is not sure how with as small as she is. Perhaps a special unit?

Before he can speculate any further, one of the taller men on the side closer to the door calls for attention. Most the people listen and fall silent, but there is a small group that keeps on talking until the woman who looks a lot like John snaps at them.

"I believe the beta has called for silence," she snarls voice low, "have some respect."

The rest of them fall silent but he can tell that they do not agree with her or are not happy about the situation. A moment later John comes out of the loo, drying his hands as he does so. "Oh, good, you're ready. First off, it's good to see all of you again. Secondly, we will not be having the full meetings here when everyone is here after this." he pauses eyes catching the attention of those who did not listen the first time silence was called for, "Thirdly, respect Jacob, he's got my full permission to kick your arse if you're not. Now let's reaffirm the bonds, combine the pack, welcome our newest members, and have a pleasant evening alright."

Before anything else can happen, Cyanne glances at him and under her breath tells him, "Unfasten your dominate hand's sleeve, the reaffirming of the bond is done the dominate wrist to wrist pulse."

He nods once, deftly unfastening his right sleeve. A moment later John is standing in front of him, left hand palm up, "Sherlock Holmes, welcome to the pack, if you accept the responsibility of being a pack-mate accept the affirmation."

His eyes flicker over John, taking every detail of him in. He is dressed in one of the nicest outfits that he has seen, though it is all black for some reason. He had said nothing of what was expected of him tonight, and he was pretty sure it was because he was supposed to do this out of the honesty within him, and not with a lot of forethought.

Lifting his right hand he looks at it for a moment before nodding once. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Cyanne place her arms so it is wrist to wrist, on the pulse point. Understanding the message he does so with John. Almost immediately after a slight pressure seems to build up behind his eyes, before a wave of warmth goes through him.

"Welcome to the pack," John tells him as he lets lose his arm and strides over to the other side of the room and does the same thing with the one called Jacob. After that he took to standing still near the window and allowed each person to choose when they were going to do so. He could almost tell the wolves from the non-wolves because the wolves all seemed to want to be affectionate in some way during their turn.

With each person who does the reaffirmation with John he can feel the presence in his mind. It is almost overwhelming because it is a slightly warm feeling, yet at the same time he feels as if he finally belongs somewhere. Swaying a little bit the mouse puts a steadying hand on his shoulder. He hadn't even noticed that she had left and returned because of the focus on the internal feelings going on inside.

Guiding him to one of the chairs she waits till he is seated to perch on the edge of it and begins speaking, "Most races of shifter are tactile, family orient. Our nest that formed in Afghanistan is odd in most are independents instead, with only myself and the four wolves in our nest being tactile. Great cats can be, but generally only with their bondmates or toys. I have never heard of a tactile falcon. Vipers are with their immediate family but no one else." Cyanne informs him softly speaking.

Once everyone has greeted his flatmate, including all of the teenagers and children that he had been originally concerned about, most of the adults with little ones bid him welcome and farewell in the same breath before herding their offspring out. The end result is only about half the people are left within the flat, all of them adults as far as he can tell.

This time when the tall man calls for attention pretty close to everyone listens, the exception being a slender boy who had faded to the background who is playing on a laptop. "Even you Eric," the tall man comments when he realizes that the boy is not paying attention.

"I'm listening, Senior. I am also playing tag with a computer tech that is pretty decent considering," the teen comments, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Apparently that was an acceptable answer, but why would tag on a computer be an acceptable answer he wonders? Before he has a chance to ask, his companion leans a little closer and answers the unspoken question.

"Eric is the computer tech who keeps our files out of stranger's hands, makes sure that camera's do not catch us shifting, and is otherwise useful." Her voice is low, though he is certain most of the people in the room can hear her.

"Why are there two humans here?" one of the wolves, judging by where he is standing, demands.

"There is only one human here," the tall man replies, looking over at the wolf.

The first man snorts, "I have a good sense of smell, there are two humans in the room. That man over there by the mouse, and that female over by the window."

It is John who answers him, his voice sharper than he had expected it, "You are correct that Sherlock is human, however Maria is a multiform, which means her scent is that of a human until she chooses what form to be in."

Again the man snorts, "Bullshit. Why are there so many non-wolves who are not related part of the pack now?"

"Because as alpha I made that choice, you as a pack member who reaffirmed your pack link accepted." John informs him, voice even as he stares at the belligerent wolf. "You're still within your rights to challenge me as alpha, a bit not good to do after the affirmation, but if that's the course you want," he shrugs, eyes narrow.

The other wolf looks around the room for a minute before nodding once, "What do you know of running a proper pack? You've spent the last ten years listening to worthless humans." He steps forward, a feral smile on his face, "Besides your nothing but an injured pup, I invoke the right of challenge."

The female that had spoken earlier, speaks up now, "You are within your rights to do so, however be aware that doing so invokes the council." Her voice is harsher than John's but he can still hear and see the likeness. "Do you wish to continue?"

He nods once and John shrugs, standing at parade rest as he watches the events unfold.

She flips open her phone and makes a phone call. When she gets off of the phone, she comments, "Where shall we take this?"

"I can have this entire block shielded from view if you wish to use the street. The nice thing is its night time making it easier to make folks look away," a slender female with light skin comments.

John nods, heading outside without another word though he gets the impression that he is having a conversation with the tall man walking to his right.

Annoyed he frowns at him, wanting to be the one who stands in the place of authority with his flatmate. What? Where did that idea come from, he wonders as he watches, the beginnings of jealousy burning low in his stomach.

The girl next to him gets to her feet and smiles at him, commenting, "Come on, this should be observed by the alpha second."

"What?" he asks confused, who is the alpha second? Isn't that the man with John right now?

She smiles at him, answering the question smoothly, "You're the alpha second. He confirmed your rank with his affirmation, only the alpha second and the beta are approached by the alpha, all others approach the alpha. Now the elders will be here shortly, and that means that the two wolves will fight. My money will always be on our elder-alpha, no matter which form he is in."

As everyone files out, she glances at him, watching them all and remarks, "This isn't how these sort of things normally go. Most the time these meetings go along the lines of everyone gathers, the senior-beta calls for attention, the elder-alpha makes whatever announcements need to be made, any comments or concerns that nestmates have are dealt with and the rest of the night is a get together sort of thing with food and visiting. Happens once a month. It's not a required attend for anyone except the elder-alpha and senior-beta. It is when new nest members are formally brought into the nest link as you felt." Once everyone else is out of the flat she motions for him to go ahead of her as they head down the steps.

Outside the street is empty of everyone except for those from the pack he realizes, slightly startled. He had never seen it emptied like this, not even during a crime scene. How?

Looking around he realizes that the pack is still divided into two separate groups, the group closer to the flat are all soldiers. Ten of them to be exact. Across from the flat are the ones he is sure are wolves. Off to the side of them is a small splinter group. He is startled to see Mike Stamford because he thought that the other man had left. Eyes narrow he realizes that there are more here than there had been a little bit ago. Most of the wolves had returned, he thinks. Why?

"Alpha challenges are rare, they are witnessed by as many of the pack as can be here before the Eldest Elders arrive." His small companion tells him as she watches the people in front of her. "Come on, as elder-alpha second you should be with Jacob." She grabs his arm and leads him over to where the tall man from earlier is standing.

His senses are in too much of an overload to comprehend everything and everyone. He had never been particularly good with large groups or physical contact, yet that seems to be the standard thing happening tonight and it is driving him a bit frustrated. One thing is for sure, he's not bored.

When a shiny silver car pulls up, he is surprised to see that he recognizes two of the three men getting out. One is a member of the British government, higher ranked than his brother in fact which is a very rare thing. The other is a visiting diplomat from Germany. He has no idea who the third person is, but judging by their mode of dress and who they are with, they are just as important.

"Alpha Watson," Mycroft's superior intones, voice low but carrying.

"Eldest Alpha," he replies, inclining his head.

"Jacob," the German murmurs, his voice startled as he stares at the man next to him.

"Eldest Falcon," comes the stiff reply from the pack's beta.

"What are you doing here?" the diplomat inquires as he looks at him carefully.

"This is my coop," he pauses, nodding towards John, "he is my Elder since I was disowned for refusing to take a mate who was not my bondmate and would not strengthen the ties of our community."

There is a speculative look in the older German's face as he studies him before nodding and turning his attention to John and the other wolf.

Now that there was a crowd, including some rather influential people, he wanted to back down. He could feel it in the link that had formed when he had been brought into the pack. However, he could also feel that the man was not going to back down. He felt that he was right in his opinion and that John should not be the alpha. So instead he stands there ready and waiting, bristling with anger.

"Drama queen, I swear wolves are the worst at times, how the hell do they manage to be at the top of the food chain if they cannot even deal with each other rationally?" he hears Eric muttering as he glances up from the laptop. "Are you shielding Daria?"

The slender woman who had commented on the block earlier nods once, lifting her left hand and etching various things into the air. Her eyes seem to glow for a moment and the air around them seems to change, a pressure being added to it that he finds hard to breathe in until he adjusts. "There, no humans who are not pack will be able to see them as long as they are within this street, camera's perception showing only non-den, non-shifters."

He blinks rapidly at her, he doesn't believe in magic but that sure looked like magic. How? Turning he quickly raises an eyebrow at Mouse, hoping that she will understand because he is not sure he could figure out how to voice that question without sounding stupid, and stupid is one thing he never likes to sound.

She seems to understand because she smiles, "Here let me do the introductions. This is Jacob, the senior-beta, an elite falcon." She points to the one who had spoke earlier. "You've already meet Hyder, he's the great cat standing there looking bored. On the other side of him is Eric, computer tech and elite cobra. Those two," she says pointing to a pair who are standing in parade rest just past the teen with the computer, "are Yana and Edward, our owly friends. Yana was actually accepted formally into the nest today, Edward's been with us a while." Motioning to the other side of Jacob she directs his attention to the girl he just saw use magic or something like it. "That's Daria and her bondmate Nathan, you can see their bonding marks on their right wrists since they are both right handed, their vipers, though I could not tell you the exact type. Daria has Gifted blood, as you might have gathered from her use of the psionic talents. Those three who act like wolves really are wolves, but they are military like the rest of us on this side. The two that look similar are Trace and Damian, the other one is Scott."

She had just finished up with the three powerful men, move to form a triangle around where John and his challenger are standing.

"Who issues the challenge?" the British wolf demands.

"I…I do, Thomas Lane," the wolf stutters.

"Who accepts the challenge?" the German diplomat queries.

"John Watson, elite alpha wolf of the Watson mixed-pack."

"Who witnesses the challenge?" the third man inquires, voice low.

"Jacob, elite beta falcon of the Watson mixed-pack." The tall man answers stepping forward and taking parade rest.

"Challenge permitted, the remaining wolf will be the alpha. Form of choice, trail by combat, death acceptable." The British wolf intones, stepping back at the same time as the other three.

The entire group is silent at that pronouncement, it is rare for alpha fights to be to the death, though Sherlock doesn't know that. What he does know is everyone seems to be shocked. Finally the wolf who issued the challenge starts to change, his body morphing into that of a nice sized timber wolf, fur sleek as he stands there and growls.

John merely looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders a bit.

"What a pup," he hears the cobra mutter, "did he not listen to the elite part of his name? Idiot."

When Thomas lunges forward, John merely side steps, allowing the wolf who is half his size to go sailing past him. Spinning on the ball of his foot, he keeps his eyes on the wolf as he takes another lunge at him. when John's eyes narrow he realizes that the other wolf must be speaking to him in some form but he cannot hear it. The next thing he knows, John's form is shifting and morphing. Where moments before a rather short blonde man stood, now a massively tall golden wolf stood instead. The only reason he could easily identify this massive wolf as his flatmate was the large patch of fur that seems to be a different color in a star burst shape on his shoulder and those blue eyes that match his human form.

One moment Thomas is lunging for him, the next the smaller wolf is back pedaling, trying to get away from the much large wolf who pins him simply by swatting him with a paw and pushing down on his throat.

_**Listen closely.**_ He hears John's voice in his head snarling, and with a glance around realizes everyone else there hears him too._** There will be no discrimination between any member of this pack. Do so and face my wrath, I will not tolerate it. Each member has their place which is mine to know and yours to accept. This pack is mixed. It will remain mixed. If you do not like it find a different pack. Understand?**_

Every single one of the wolves that had been grumbling shift and present their throats in submission before John hops backwards returning to his human form as he does so, still fully dressed. The others slowly turn back into their human forms, most of them even managing to do so fully clothed, but there are a few who do not.

Thomas inches a little closer, his voice a low beg as he babbles at John about how sorry he is. However John's not listening, his gaze is sweeping the area. It will be one of the few times he would see that temper he would realize years later.

"Deal with him Jacob," the alpha wolf comments, before flashing a smile to the rest, "Either go home or enjoy the rest of the night, the reason has already been completed. There will not be a comments time this month."

The tall man next to him inclines his head, murmuring, "Sir," before walking over to where the graveling man is.

The three 'elders' all bid farewell to John before getting back in their vehicle and leaving. Lost in thought he barely notices the passage of time once he gets back into the flat, nor does he notice that it is early morning when everyone has finally left.

* * *

_AN: So this chapter did not go at all like I expected it to, I mean seriously, in my head it was mostly fluffy, but when I started typing it decided to change its mind and here we are! Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys. _


	12. Following Morning

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). This chapter is for all those awesome people who keep leaving me reviews, you're the best! _

* * *

_Chapter 12  
__John's POV  
_The following day came early it seemed to the tired alpha as he stretched and got out of bed. He had not had a very good night's sleep because he had been fretting about his potential bondmate who's mind seemed to be in overload. Which due to the pack link he could feel, even though he was sure that Sherlock had not linked in with anyone else. Focusing on the pack, he allowed his thoughts to clear and checked on each member. Most of them were fine, they were startled by how the previous night had gone but had accepted as is. Nearly all the adults had noticed his wrist and the spiral bondmark on it though none of them had commented. Those of his team and his sister knew who the bondmark was in relation to but they weren't saying a thing. He pays particular care to the link between himself and Thomas, first to see if it is still there, yep; then to see how the defeated wolf feels, upset but clear headed, not holding a grudge. Good. He would have to check with Jacob later to see what his beta had assigned for a punishment.

Grabbing his things, he heads into the shower to get cleaned up. While there he delicately reaches out on the pack link to check on his dark-haired human, who's mind is still buzzing like there is no tomorrow. From what he can tell he had never gotten to sleep. Sighing, he finishes washing up before dressing and heading into the kitchen in order to make tea for himself and coffee for Sherlock since that is what he noticed him drinking the previous morning.

"Morning Sherlock," he greets the tall human as he sets the cup down on the coffee table in front of the sofa near his head before retreating to his chair.

Sherlock is stretched out much like he had been when considering whether to text the cabbie or not just a few days prior.

He is not surprised by the lack of communication from the taller man, he is probably still processing. Perhaps it would be a good idea to invite Eric over, those two should hit it off rather well. Both of them are far more intelligent than him, though in different ways. Grabbing his phone he sends of a text message.

-Tech, would you mind coming over for a bit? I think Sherlock might need someone who understands him a bit better to explain things when he starts questioning.- JW

-Of course. What about Mouse?- Tech

-You're not taking her place.- JW

-Good. I don't have the tolerance to.- Tech

-Mouse, you can stop by to make plans as to when lessons start if you have not already.- JW

-Okay! Cya soon. –Mouse

Through all the texting Sherlock doesn't move an inch, nor does he move when he goes to answer the door and let Eric in. However he does move when the cobra eyes him for a moment before taking a seat in the second arm chair. It's a little motion, just a tilt of his head, but its something.

Most of the day after that goes silently, with the two genius doing whatever it is genius do while he works on settling in his meager possessions into his room. It is shortly before dinner time when Eric pipes up with, "Umbrella boy is coming to visit," which seems to pull Sherlock out of his mind because he glances over at him, shocked.

"Umbrella boy?" he repeats slowly, shifting into a seated position to look over at him.

The cobra ignores him, still typing away at his computer, in his chair John is doing the same thing, but he is watching the interactions closely. He had already determined that his mate needed acceptance and praise that was not a hard one to get when his scent always filled with pleasure when he got it. It was not hard to give either because he was bloody brilliant. He also figured that he needed mental companionship, someone who could keep up with him, and that was something that John was certain that Eric could do.

"Your elder brother," Eric eventually replies as he gets to his feet, "I'll be on the roof," he tells the room at large before vanishing to the roof top.

"How does he know?" Sherlock inquires, glancing over at him.

He shrugs, "Probably the same way he does anything, hacked the system. He gets bored easily."

The dark-haired human stares at him when he says that seemingly shocked.

Smiling, he takes his seat in the chair he had claimed as his, happy that the cobra had not touched it. "You're unique, amazing, and resourceful, but I got the impression you have very few people if any that can keep up. I know that my mind doesn't move nearly as fast as yours. However Eric, well that cobra thinks far too fast and recalls way too much sometimes. Perhaps you can find a friend in that, someone who will keep easily," he shrugs a bit self consciously, "well if not there was no harm in meeting anyways."

At that point he falls silent, the scent of Mycroft reaching before the actual person who is actually climbing the stairs right now.

"Good evening, Doctor Watson, Sherlock. I would like a word with you." his glance flickers to him, "In private."

Smiling briefly, John gets to his feet before heading outside for a bit.

oOo

_Sherlock's POV  
_The previous night had been too much for him in such a short period of time. Since Cyanne had made sure he made it back inside, he had been lost in his Mind Palace sorting out all of the new information that he had gotten. An entire wing had been added to the palace for John in the last few days, and now another wing had appeared this one for his new pack.

Pack. He was part of a pack, human him was part of a mostly wolf pack. For the most part they had seemed to welcome him. Only that small group had tried to judge him and then it wasn't really him that they had a problem with, it was humans. Perhaps later when he was being more himself around them they would judge him. Perhaps it would go all horribly wrong. After all things rarely went right for him, his mind worked too fast, noticed too much, made people way too uncomfortable, yet….yet that girl had seemed relaxed in his presence. She had said he was gifted. That boy with the laptop, his eyes had seemed vaguely familiar, had he not been in over load he might have realized that his expression was much like his when he was figuring out puzzles.

As he gets the information straight in his head, he is able to figure out the life stories of each of the pack members he met. Or at least most of it. However he feels like he had missed some important details because not a one of them seemed to be having an affair or cheating on their significant other, how was that even possible for a group of that size? Then there was the fact there was a lot of single ones in the group who did not seem to be having any sort of affair at all and that was really just weird. Perhaps it had to do with them being shifters? He really did need to learn as much as possible about their customs, particularly since he had been invited into the fold.

Shifters, he thought to himself. John's form was that of a giant golden-blonde wolf the same shade as his hair. Yet he could still clearly see every single line and inch in his mind. He had been huge, bigger than any sort of wolf he had ever heard of, standing as tall as himself despite the fact that wolves were normally small, not even reaching his waistline. His wolf form was gorgeous, he thought, perfectly shaped and proportioned, the sunburst discoloring on the wolves shoulder probably lined up with the scarring on his human shoulder. Still he can only hope that he will get a chance to study John's wolf form a bit more in the future.

At some point the smell of fresh coffee catches his attention, drawing him momentarily out of his Mind Palace to discover John has freshly bathed and placed a cup of hot, fresh coffee near him as he murmurs his morning greetings. As John takes a spot in the seat that he is quickly thinking of as his, Sherlock allows himself to fall back into his Mind Palace and doesn't come out of it again until he feels a cool presence entering the room.

This time when he emerges he is startled to see the kid from the previous night lounging in the second armchair, laptop resting on his legs as he types but never says a word.

Silently he studies the teenager trying to figure out what all is familiar about him besides the fact he seems to be lost in thought. He's a slender young man, straight black hair, scale patterning down the side of his neck and jaw that he once would have thought was a tattoo but now realizes are his natural scales, light yellow eyes barely leave his screen as he keeps going in a too pale of face when compared to the obsidian scales. This boy was trouble, he realized, the kind of trouble that took great pleasure in it as well.

Eventually he mutters, "Umbrella boy is coming to visit," as he continues to type away at his laptop as if it is the most natural thing in the world to make announcements like that.

Umbrella boy? He repeats to himself, none of the members of the pack that he had meet the previous night had an umbrella, so who is he talking about. "Umbrella boy?" he repeats out loud, frustrated that he could not figure it out.

The teen ignores him for a bit before finally commenting, "Your elder brother," he pauses momentarily, shifting his stance and moving with a liquid grace that he almost envies, "I'll be on the roof."

Glancing over at John he questions, "How does he know?" It is so weird to not know with just a look. How was the boy doing that?

His short flatmate just shrugs answering, "Probably the same way he does anything, hacked the system. He gets bored easily."

He can't help but stare. Mycroft has some of the best in the world to make sure the computers are safe, that they cannot be hacked and here is his flatmate of not even a week, his new alpha in the pack he had been accepted into telling him that that teenager was better than the best. It is discerning really.

John smiles at him as he perches in what Sherlock sees as his seat again as he remarks, "You're unique, amazing, and resourceful, but I got the impression you have very few people if any that can keep up. I know that my mind doesn't move nearly as fast as yours. However Eric, well that cobra thinks far too fast and recalls way too much sometimes. Perhaps you can find a friend in that, someone who will keep easily," he shrugs looking a bit self consciously, "well if not there was no harm in meeting anyways."

Moments after the golden wolf comments he hears the front door shift open and the familiar sound of his brother climbing the steps. It is very unusual for Mycroft to actually visit in person. He prefers to send a small team to kidnap him and meet at his leisure no matter what he was doing prior. A few seconds later the his elder brother comes striding in as if he owns the place, his sharp eyes taking everything in the room in.

"Good evening, Doctor Watson," he drawls in that tone that never fails to annoy, "Sherlock. I would like a word with you." his glance flickers to John, "In private."

Smiling briefly, his flatmate gets to his feet before heading outside for a bit without saying anything.

Sighing, he shifts from his sprawled out laying down to sitting upright. He is shocked to see that John had changed out his coffee for a fresh one at some point so the one he has tastes far better than expected.

"What do you want Mycroft?" he just about snaps at his brother, he really would rather be in his head right now, working his way through the details that he had collected the night before.

"What happened here last night Sherlock? All of our camera's that can see this place and two blocks around it went offline and when they came back on it seemed to be on some type of loop. Yet every time I sent a team they reported that there was no one here or they turned back before reaching here." His very frustrating older brother comments. "I do not like the idea that you're playing with the CCTV's."

He smiles, smirking really as he considers Eric and Daria and apparently whatever they had done had really angered his brother because it was out of his control. That was wonderful, even if there was not another perk to this pack thing, that alone would make it well worth it.

"I don't know what you're talking about Mycroft. John had some family over, apparently they felt he needed a flat warming party. It was nothing special and there were far too many of them." He informs his brother loftily, internally gloating I know something that you really wish you knew.

"Sherlock," Mycroft grumbles warningly.

He smiles again, "If you will excuse me, I have mental house cleaning to do." With that he refocuses on his mind, falling back into his Mind Palace to keep going over the details of the previous night.

He does not hear it as Mycroft leaves, nor as John and Eric come back, he barely notices when he gets a text message, and just about forgets everything else in his single minded focus to recall and understand as much as possible.

Mouse had said that if he had any questions to get a hold of her, it was her task to help teach him the customs though she had not said how to get a hold of her. He was ecstatic when shortly after he smells John making dinner the chipper voice of the small female cuts through his mind. Sitting up and stretching after being still for so long he takes in everything around him to see how things may have changed in the forty-eight hours.

The teenager is back in the second armchair, while the mouse is in the kitchen speaking with John as he cooks.

"Cyanne," his voice cuts through the room, surprising her since she hadn't noticed that he moved, "You said you were to teach me about the pact. We begin now."

She smiles at him replying, "Right after dinner, and you should eat too, your far too skinny, how do you expect to find a proper mate if you are a bag of bones?"

He blinks shocked for a moment before answering, "Why would I want a mate? I'm married to my work."

She shrugs answering, "For now, but I think you're like a great cat, you have your passions and eventually your needs will assert themselves, now come eat, Elder John is an excellent cook." She pauses looking over at the teenager, "You too cobra."

For such a small thing she is bossy, he considers arguing but decides not to, he wants the information she has and he has a feeling that arguing with her will make it harder to get.


	13. Dealing with Boredom

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). This chapter is for all those awesome people who keep leaving me reviews, you're the best! _

* * *

_Chapter 13  
__John's POV  
_That first time he listen to Cyanne take his tall human to task for being so thin he had expected Sherlock to verbally rip her apart, yet he watched the calculating look that crossed his eyes briefly before he had dramatically sighed and did what she wanted. Since then the small woman had been over twice a week to work with him on his information about the difference between the various shifter races and customs. She had been adamant that he needed to understand the different customs that each of their pack members brought to the table and watching her deal with his sharp eyed and tongued flatmate was hilarious because she treated him the exact same way she treated Eric.

During the following weeks there had been seven cases that the jackal-child had asked for Sherlock's help with. Only three of them did he actually bother to consider. The other four he had briefly listen to the file and then snapped the answers in the most insulting fashion as he could think of. Part of him was sadden by this behavior but considering the way that he had been treated at the four crime scenes he had gone with Sherlock to, he was not surprised in the least. Why make it nice for them if they were not going to be polite to him?

In order to keep from being bored he was considering getting a proper job, not that he needed one. As an alpha he would get a pension that was his to do with as he wanted. His choice? Pay bills and have Eric invest part of it in order to make extra money on it. No reason to go to a big banker when that cobra could make as much or more money off of than most of them at a fraction of the cost. Despite the fact he actually had money, he still preferred to live frugally.

Of course there was something that he 'borrow' money from his flatmate for, such as for food, since he had managed to get him to eat at least once every other day. He also had Eric ferreting away money for his potential bondmate to, so that if he ever wanted to be paid back, he would be with interest.

It was one of the days when Cyanne was not supposed to be over and there was no cases going on that Sherlock threw himself across the sofa and groaned, "I'm bored." He had discovered that boredom for the genius was a lot like boredom for Eric, completely not a good thing.

When he was bored he would do a wide variety of foolish things such as experiments that he really did not want to know what they were, just please keep them to his assigned part of the fridge and counters, play the violin at all hours of the day or night, and pace in a rather feline like manner.

"Care to learn how to fight when dealing with a shifter?" he eventually asks the dark-haired man. While he was sure that he knew something of self defense, John was an alpha seeking to find an activity in order to keep him engaged. So far it seemed that Sherlock was enthralled by everything that he had learned about shifters, and like other times the shifters had been mentioned, the dark-haired human quickly came to attention. Watching him closely.

"Really?" he inquires a bit too keen it seems.

He smiles, "Yes really, your part of a pack now that means that there are occasional dangers included in that, mostly in the form of human hunters, but sometimes rogue shifters. While fighting with humans might be something you are already skilled at, I am sure you don't have training for dealing with shifters."

A moment later he is standing in front of him, excitement and pleasure filling his scent. "Come one," he commands.

Standing up, he stretches a bit, looking at his human. "First off, identifying a shifter. We pass as humans because for all intent and purposes we are human, the difference is so very minor that a geneticists looking at our DNA have not yet found it. As a pack member you have the advantage, you have a pack link and you could theoretically learn to control it to feel other shifters not in the pack. If you want to, speak with Daria about that, it's more her domain than mine. Now a sure fire way to identify most shifters without using the pack link is to look towards the wrists and the underside of the ears." He presents first his wrists, then turns his head to show him the silvery almost not noticeable marks that are on the flesh behind his ears. "They are only seeable while alive. The wrist marks indicate bond status, though some also intentionally form their pack status on their arms too. The marks behind the ears are pack status, they allow a person within a pack to see what pack another is in, if they are in a pack, and type of pack."

Sherlock's long fingers brush his hair aside as the human stares at them. His marks are the palest of gold, he knows because he had used a mirror to study them when he had first discovered them. It is something taught to alpha's but rarely anyone else because most are never allowed that close to each other. However he is well aware of his tall human's keen eye sight so he is certain that he would be able to spot them without having to get to close.

"I can explain the different pack markers later if you would like. Though I would point out you probably have one behind your ears as well since you are pack." He offers to the taller man.

He steps back, looking closely at him with that stare that says his mind is processing. "Continue," he eventually demands still watching him closely.

A smile curves his lips as he does so. "Now most react like humans and fight like humans as well, but some, primarily rogues, will attack with their hybrid forms or elements of their hybrid form." He lifts a hand allowing his claws to replace his finger nails to show what he is talking about and before he can say anything else, his human has pounced on him, grabbing his wrist and turning it in different directions as he studies the claws.

It takes a great deal of will power not to moan as those long fingers delicately explore the pads of his fingers, palm, and the back of his hand.

Finally he is released from the hold and Sherlock is back to watching him with intense focus.

"When a shifter fights using their claws they will nearly always aim for deadly spots, the arteries at the throat and leg being two of the biggest ones. Best choice is to stay out of the way and put objects between you and them. This is true for those who have animal forms with claws, though without claws tend to use other methods of fighting…"

"Various snake breeds bite or squeeze, the different types of rodents tend to set traps and work in teams, birds prefer to attack from above." Eric comments from the door he is leaning on. "I came by to give you this handy little device," he tells them holding up a small black stick that looks like a lighter. "It dampens signals from any device that is not coded in, pass your phones and laptops and I will make them immune, but everyone else will have difficulties using their internet here. Plus umbrella will not be able to use cameras in or near here."

The slender cobra looks between the two before shrugging his jacket off and laying it down with his laptop by the door. "Careful of those like me who keep a permanent hybrid form. There is normally a reason for it, and it is mostly not good." He walks over, presenting the back of his neck and allowing the scales to fade. "See the markers that run from the sides to the back? You will always see them on elites, elites are the ones you really do not want to fight. Better to use the link to call for assistance than to tangle with someone who could easily kill you, and might kill you because it is easy." His scales return, repatterning down his neck and jaw as he grabs the laptop of the table and takes his customary seat.

For a while he works with Sherlock on learning to dodge when a hybrid form is attacking, mildly surprised at how quickly he picks up on it. While he knows he is a genius when it comes to intellectual matters, it is surprising him as to how active he is as well. By the time they are done it is nearly dinner and the tall human drops on the sofa with a satisfied look, he was moving out of the way more often than and avoiding the hits.

Right before he leaves, Eric comments, "I loaded the inventory of markers I have already compiled. Memorize them and you will be able to identify what pack, nest, coop, flight, den, or pride a shifter is from, what type it is, and what type of animal they become."

Without saying anything else the slender shifter leaves, grabbing his jacket and laptop as he goes.

"Why do I have a hard time reading your military pack?" his tall human inquires from his place sprawled out on the sofa. "I get some of the basics, family, job, minor history but when I try to look for the things that make people interesting, the problems, I don't see them. There is not a single case of violence between spouses, drinking, drugs, or adultery that I have found within the pack yet. Why?"

He smiles, heading into the kitchen to wash his hands and cook dinner, for a moment he considers the question before answering, "What has Cyanne covered as far as relationships among the shifters?"

He gives a small shake of his head, "Not much, I had been asking mostly about histories, structure, and different varieties, I never would have guessed there were so many types." Comes the dark-haired mans reply.

He nods once, thinking about it before speaking as he cooks, "First off drugs and drinking are strongly discouraged, and most shifters do not like the idea of ending up in a zoo or science lab so they tend to listen to that encouragement. Both can interfere with our ability to control the shift." He finishes what he was working on and shoves it in the oven. "Secondly, violence between spouses is rare for a number of reasons, most don't want to pick a fight with someone who is as strong as or stronger than them, or who can go to the alpha to have the council deal with them instead. Third adultery, those that are bonded and have children cannot commit adultery. Their bodies will not allow it. Once the bond is in place between them, the only person they can sleep with is their bondmate. Each shifter gets two bondmates to choose from, one male, one female. Children can only be conceived by bondmates, the only exception to this is those who are more human than shifter. Lestrade is a good example, he has jackal blood but is for all purposes a human, he cannot shift, he cannot scent, he lacks a pack bond. His children however could be born with the shifter traits and thus they will only be able to have children with a bondmate."

After he gets the food in the stove he goes back into the living room and settles into his chair. For a moment he says nothing, then he shrugs, "Shifters who are not bondmated may take lovers as much as they want, they can even form unions with these lovers, however they will not produce children or long term relationships, so they are mostly discouraged."

While he is explaining this, the dark-haired human is stretched out in his thinking position. His eyes shut and hands templed in front of him just below his jaw. When John looks over at him, he has the urge to just walk over and taste the small stretch of skin he can see between his slacks and where his shirt had rode up.

"How is a bondmate determined?" Sherlock eventually asks, opening his eyes to look over at him.

"How do you mean?" he asks, wanting him to be a bit more exact.

"Do you pick who your bondmate is or does something else do so?" comes the reply.

Frowning he answers, "Touch, physical touch, within ten minutes of skin to skin contact, no matter how brief the contact was, the mark will appear on one or both of their wrists. It is then up to them to determine if they wish to continue on or stop and try and figure out if they are a match." He shrugs, going to check the food before returning to where he was seated, "I've never heard of a bad match between bondmates, so it really is a preference of gender as to which one is selected, along with whether or not both bondmates are known to the parties involved."

"Why would only one have a mark?" the dark-haired human queries.

"That generally means that their bondmate is human or gifted. Those who are human or gifted do not have a mark appear until they accept the relationship. After all, they are not bond to it unless they accept it, so they can just ignore it and keep on with their lives as if nothing had changed." He responds after considering what the best way to do so would be.

"You have a mark on your wrist, but I have seen you with no one, why?" the question nearly catches him off guard.

Again he shrugs, "I will not force my bondmate into a choice, if and when they are ready, they'll let me know. Until then," he pauses shrugging, "I will accept that I will not be sleeping with anyone. Doesn't stop me from flirting though, got to keep in practice after all."

Again Sherlock falls silent, when he looks over at him, he seems to be lost in his mind palace and John can do nothing more than sigh quietly as he finishes dinner up. Once it is served, he gently touches the taller human's mind with his, murmuring, _Come out now, it is time to pretend to eat._

It apparently shocks him because he sits upright and looks around for a minute before his gaze settles on John over in kitchen. "How?" he mutters, watching him.

He smirks at the intelligent man, motioning for him to come eat but knowing that he really will not eat much. As he watches him, he thinks to himself, I don't think he is a sociopath, I think he has aspergers. He has emotions, he just does not seem to connect with them very well, he has a set way of doing things and patterns that he seems to need to stay stable, his mind is overly active, without the filters that most take for granted. Perhaps I should start making a list of the things he does eat, won't touch, and will eat but doesn't seem to like.

Smiling softly to himself, he almost misses the look of curiosity that the taller man gives him before the two of them fall into an easy conversation about the effects of the moon on a shifter.


	14. Bill Money

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). This chapter is for all those awesome people who keep leaving me reviews, you're the best! _

* * *

_Chapter 14  
__John's POV  
_Several more days pass and he had been out to do the shopping when everything that could go wrong seemed to have done so. There were either more idiots out today than normal, or his patience were wearing thin because there had been several times while he was at the market that he had wanted to smack various people just for being stupid. Then when he had went to check out the lines had been super long so he figured he would use the self-checkout, cannot be that difficult, done it before, probably will do it again. Yeah, not today, today was one of those days. When he finally ran out of patience, he had grabbed his card which wasn't working and left without bothering to put his stuff up or anything.

As he walked back he had checked it and groaned, the card had expired at the beginning of the month and he hadn't noticed. One quick call later and the bank had promised to have him a new one by the beginning of the next week. Not that that was going to help him today though.

Upon getting back to the apartment he was surprised to see his dark-haired flatmate still seated in his chair as if he hadn't moved. The scent in the flat said that someone else had been there but he could see no evidence of it past the smell, at least until he spotted the slender sword under the taller man's seat that he acts like he doesn't see. Sometimes a bloke just doesn't want to ask if the information is not volunteered.

"You took your time," the dark-haired human comments as he changes the page in the book he was reading.

Tensely he replies, "Yeah, I didn't get the shopping."

Startled, the taller man looks over the top of his book at him muttering, "What? Why not?" his scent flares indignant before going back to the satisfied it was when he first walked in the flat.

Grumbling he answers, "Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine."

Amusement and disbelief change the taller human's scent as he lowers his book and queries, "You ... you had a row with a machine?"

He looks away for a moment, considering that it was probably better to get pissed at the machine then all of the stupid people he seems to be encountering today. Particularly those ones who seem to think wearing to much cologne or perfume is a good thing. "Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?" he answers, his tone evening out.

Even though he's not smiling, he knows that the dark-haired human is finding way to much amusement in this, nodding towards the kitchen his flatmate answers, "Take my card."

Walking over to the kitchen table he stops just before he gets there, the smell of stranger particularly thick. Turning he remarks slightly frustrated, "You could always go yourself, you know. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left." To see what his dark-haired human will say in response.

Sherlock's scent changes to self-satisfied again, losing the edge of disbelief and amusement as he changes a page of his book without answering.

Returning to what he was doing, he carefully thumbs through the wallet looking for the card in question while asking, "And what happened about that case you were offered – the Jaria Diamond?"

"Not interested," the taller human replies, marking his book and closing it, before using the heel of his shoe to push the sword he was pretending not to notice backwards. "I sent them a message."

Finding the card he spots the gash in the table as he goes to set the wallet back down, leaning over a little he rubs at it, realizing that it is probably from that sword he is not paying attention to. "Ugh, Holmes," he mutters as he leaves to go do the shoping again. By the door he pauses for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to comment, "Try to hide the sword better next time, or open some windows to get a breeze, it stinks of stranger in here."

With that he trots off, leaving a baffled human in his wake according to the burst of surprise he smells right before shutting the door.

A bit later, after a return trip to the store, recollecting the shopping, and actually having it work this time when he pays for it, he catches a cab back to the flat and carefully navigates getting the door open so he can get inside. Staggering a bit at the fact he really should make two trips up the steps and doesn't want to he carries the shopping upstairs making a slightly sarcastic comment as he passes his flatmate. "Don't worry about me. I can manage."

Glancing around as he enters, he notes that the taller human is no longer in his preferred armchair and is sitting at the table with a laptop that he seems to be completely fixed on judging by the fact he did not make a comeback to his comment. Setting the groceries down, he glances back over, realizing that it is his computer that this flatmate is staring at, not his own, still he asks the obvious question, "Is that my computer?"

"Of course," comes Sherlock's reply as he starts typing on the laptop.

"What?" he snaps in shock. There are private files on there regarding the pack and those within it. Hopefully they were not comprised.

The tall man doesn't even flinch as he answers, "Mine was in the bedroom," he just continues to type.

Frustrated, he demands as he strips off his overcoat, "What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up?" he pauses for a moment to see if there is going to be any sort of response to that and when there is not, he exclaims confusedly, "It's password protected!"

Distractedly the other man remarks, "In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours." He pauses, turning to look up at him for a moment, "Not exactly Fort Knox."

Striding over to where the tall man is seated, he snaps, "Right, thank you," in an annoyed voice before slamming the lid down and lifting it up. Still grumbling he sets his laptop over on his seat before checking the bills. Frowning at them, he realizes a few of them are due, possibly even late judging by the red coloring of the numbers. "Oh," he mutters to himself, "need to get a job."

With his hands pressed together in front of his face, staring off into space the tall man negligently replies, "Oh, dull," he shifts his hands to interlace his fingers as he continues to think. His emotions staying rather calm.

He is contemplating asking his flatmate to borrow some money when he realizes that the taller man seems to be lost in thought. "Sherlock," he begins as he watches the younger man.

Tilting his head up, the younger man comments, "I need to go to the bank." Sighing, he gets to his feet, heading straight towards the stairs as he does, and grabbing his flowing coat as he moves.

Frowning to himself, he gets to his feet and follows the taller man out of the flat. One cab ride later and they are walking into the Shad Sanderson Bank. He cannot help but look around in amazement at the impressive foyer as they hop onto an escalator. "Yes, when you said we were going to the bank…" his voice trails off as they ride the escalator to the second floor. His attention is drawn to the taller man's demeanor, who is looking at everything and everyone, catching the smallest details.

At the top of the escalator stairs, they get off and Sherlock strides over to the receptionist desk and addresses the first available receptionist, "Sherlock Holmes."

She quickly calls upstairs and a few moments later they are meeting with a slightly taller human with black hair.

"Sherlock Holmes," the tall man greets him with an artificial grin.

"Sebastian," he replies as the two of them shake hands, Sebastian encasing both of his hands over Sherlock's.

"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" the other man fidgets, glancing between the two men. His scent rather annoying with the cockiness it was filled with.

His dark-haired human's scent however is filled with dislike, he really does not want to be around this man. "This is my friend John Watson." He had put emphasis on the word friend which made his heart swell with joy, not that he was going to show it here.

"Friend?" Sebastian repeated, his scent full of disbelief.

He smiles tightly, responding, "Indeed." He has already taken a dislike to this human, he really does not appreciate the fact that people seem to treat his human so shabbily.

"Right," the human mutters shaking his hand, "right," before glancing over at Sherlock and scratching his neck with his other hand. The disbelief in his scent becomes stronger and includes condescendence.

He watches as Sherlock's eyes glance at him, taking in everything in a single look the way he does.

As the other human walks around to behind his desk queries, "Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water?"

His dark-haired human gives a single shake of his head while he murmurs, "No." both of them take seats in front of the desk with John to the left, and Sherlock to the right.

"No?" he queries one last time, before the other man takes his seat as he tells his secretary, "We're all sorted here, thanks."

She nods and leaves.

In a matter of fact tone, Sherlock remarks as he tilts the chair back a bit, "So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot."

The other man gives a small shrug, "Well, some."

"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?" his voice is questioning, as if he wishes to be sure he is right, however his scent is full of self-assurance.

The difference between scent and tone makes him glance over at the dark-haired human questioningly, slightly confused.

Grinning in malice, Sebastian points at the taller man as he says, "Right. You're doing that thing" his gaze flickers over to John as he continues, "We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."

Annoyance fills Sherlock's scent as he softly remarks, "It's not a trick," he clicks the 'k' sound a bit more than normal.

However the other human keeps speaking as if Sherlock had not commented, "He could look at you and tell you your whole life story."

He looks over at the taller human, a small smile momentarily curving his lips as he responds with satisfaction, "Yes, I've seen him do it."

Disdain fills Sebastian's scent as he continues, "Put the wind up everybody. We hated him. You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night."

From the corner of his eye he can see his tall human tilt his head down, a brief expression of pain flashing across his features, his scent clouding with hurt for a moment as he regains control. Head still down, he tilts it a slight bit towards the other human, still softly speaking, "I simply observed."

Nastily the other human, demands, "Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world – you're quite right. How could you tell?" he pauses for a moment but does not give Sherlock the chance to actually do so before smugly continuing, "You're gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan."

He smiles to himself, ready to hear his tall human put this arsehole in his place.

"No I…" he begins but is interrupted by the other human speaking over him.

"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!"

His tone is even as he replies, "I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me."

He frowns, glancing over at the taller human in confusion, wondering why he had not put him in his place.

Sebastian laughs, clapping his hands together once before remarking, "I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break-in." getting to his feet he waits for them to stand before leading them towards another door and room, continuing to speak, "Sir William's office – the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night."

Curious he asks, "What did they steal?"

Turning to face them, Sebastian answers, "Nothing. Just left a little message," as he swipes his security card to open the door.

The shorter human steps in to the room, but to the side allowing Sherlock to move past him to study the paint on the wall and painting while he stops next to the human and observes. For a few minutes he studies the scene before the three of them return to the shorter human's office.

Once there, he pulls up some imaging on his computer, explaining, "Sixty seconds apart," as he shows them the before and after pictures in regards to the painting. "So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then left within a minute."

"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock inquires, staring at the screen.

The shorter human responds, "Well, that's where this gets really interesting," before he shows them to the reception area and the computers there. At one of the computers he brings up a floor plan, explaining, "Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."

Studying the layout he murmurs, "That door didn't open last night."

John merely listens as he stands on the other side of Sebastian watching his human's mind whirl.

Playing with the buttons on his coat, Sebastian comments, "There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you – five figures." He pauses for a moment, pulling a check out of his suit pocket, "This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way."

Evenly Sherlock remarks, "I don't need an incentive, Sebastian." He turns to stare at the other human for a moment before walking away.

He stares for a moment in shock out across the building before the other human turns towards him as he watches, "He's, uh, he's kidding you, obviously." Shifting his positioning, he holds out his hand, "Sh-shall I look after that for him?" Sebastian smiles again in a condescending way before handing him the check. "Thanks," he murmurs glancing at the check in disbelief before he goes to see what Sherlock is doing.


	15. Van Coon

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). This chapter is for all those awesome people who keep leaving me reviews, you're the best! Thank you to those ten new people who put me at 40 followers, your awesome, and to the folks who pressed favorite, your awesome too, if you did both I guess you're a double dose of great._

* * *

_Chapter 15  
__Sherlock's POV  
_When his flatmate had come home the first time, without the shopping, he had been sure he had done a good job of hiding the evidence of the fact there had been a fight in the flat. He had realized while John was walking over to the table that he could feel the sword under his chair, he had tried to push it back without catching his attention, because he really did not want to get asked a bunch of pointless questions. Then John surprised him, when he left he told him to either air the room better or make sure the weapon was not in sight next time and he had not known what to do.

How? He wondered for a bit before it came to him, shifter. Yet he hadn't got all pissed at him for the fighting in the house, instead he had let the matter be. Why? Anyone else would have been all over him for that. Could it be a possible response from being in the army or was that a response due to his being a shifter? It was something he would have to explore better in the future.

Bored he had decided to use John's laptop instead of his own, it had been a synch to get on it, yet as he explored it he realized that there were some files that he could not access and no amount of thinking could tell him what the password to those files was. Instead he had gotten online, checking John's rather pedestrian blog before going on to check his email, he would have checked John's out of curiosity but again he could not figure out the password. Why would he have a rather simple one to get on the laptop but the files and email were protected by advanced ones? Alpha, is mind supplied, he probably has files relating to that, Eric, his mind continued, possible that his computer tech had designed a safety program for him.

Now there was another quandary for him, he could find nothing on the other man, and he had tried. He even hacked into his brother's files once or twice to see if he could find the information in them, and there was nothing. So either the cobra was using a different name than was his or he wasn't a British citizen. Yet when he had initial read him, deducing what he could about the shifter he had noted that he was British. Was he a really good mimic? Perhaps he should ask, he thinks. He doesn't like puzzles he cannot solve.

Eventually, after going through a bunch of junk mail in his email, and answering a few case questions on things that might have seemed interesting on the offset but were really not, he had gotten an email from a man he went to uni with, Sebastian Wilkes, offering to pay him to do a job. While he had not liked Sebastian, he did like the fact that he had asked for help, and if it gave him a little bit of money that was not from Mycroft to use, well that was all good to. So when John had finally gotten back he was in the process of thinking about an answer for Sebastian.

Then John had taken the laptop back rather violently and he had been startled for a moment as to why until he remembered the fact that there was locked files that he was sure he was not supposed to see on there. Of course that made him curious but he liked his flatmate so he would not push the issue. At least, not right now he wouldn't.

In normal style he had made up his mind and went to doing what he decided, saying nothing more than, "I need to go to the bank," before leaving to do so.

He was surprisingly pleased that John had gone with him, it would give him a chance to show someone who had always said he was friendless that he really could have a friend, on the taxi ride to the bank he had told John that he had not gotten into his private files, hoping that would make the shorter man happy but he had just sighed which confused him for a bit until John explained that he really shouldn't use other peoples computers without asking like that, it was not good.

When he had introduced him as his friend, he had half expected him to deny it, but he didn't. Why didn't he? They worked together and were flatmates, but he wasn't sure if they were friends. Was it because he was pack? He still had not explored what all that meant, but life had been crazy and sometimes his instructor in the matter was irritating because she smiled at him when he got to thinking way to fast and waited for him to slow down before speaking again. Or she would call the cobra and he was still trying to figure that mystery out so it drove him around the bin.

Now as he sits in the office with a man he is really not fond of he takes in every detail that he can but doesn't actually use those details, preferring instead to be ordinary about his reasoning for how he knows things, he knows that will drive Sebastian nuts. After being showed the crime scene, the camera stills, and the computer that locks everything he goes into research mode, after all he has to gather the facts before he can come up with an answer.

First thing is first, get pictures of the graffiti so he can come back to them later if he needs, or show them to someone who works with graffiti more. From there he decides to check the other entrance to the room, the door to the outside balcony that looks out at the Swiss Re Tower. The balcony is hundreds of feet above the ground and he bites his low lip as he considers the various ways one could get to it in his head. With that line of thought done he heads out on the trading floor, checking around ever desk, computer, and columns. When he finally finds the only one with a clear view of the graffiti he removes the name card that goes with it and collects John so they can leave.

They are just about to the escalators when his shorter companion remarks, "Two trips around the world this month. You didn't ask his secretary; you said that just to irritate him."

He smiles at the fact that his friend had realized what he was doing but does not comment.

"How did you know?" comes the soft question.

He recalls his quick study of the watch, "Did you see his watch?" he inquires.

"His watch?" his flatmate repeats, from anyone else that would bug him, but from John it is most alright because he is asking, not stating.

As they get onto the escalator he answers, "The time was right but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice but he didn't alter it."

Curious, his flatmate asks, "Within a month? How'd you get that part?"

He smiles tightly as he answers, "New Breitling. Only came out this February."

As they step off the escalator John inquires, "Okay. So d'you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?"

Eyes still studying everything he answers, "Got everything I need to know already, thanks."

The shorter man makes a questioning noise as he pauses for a moment.

"That graffiti was a message for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and…" he trails off, waiting to see if John will finish the sentence. He is rather pleased when he does.

"They'll lead us to the person who sent it."

"Obvious," he states as the go to take the next escalator down.

"Well, there's three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?" John queries.

"Pillars," he state, his mind going over the various items in the way of seeing the graffiti.

Slightly confused, the shorter man asks, "What?"

Looking around he answers him, "Pillars and the screens. Very few places you can see that graffiti from. That narrows the field considerably. And of course the message was left at eleven thirty-four last night. That tells us a lot."

"Does it?"

"Traders come to work at all hours. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight." He tells the shorter man as they go through the revolving doors and on to the street. Once outside he holds the name card up to show his companion, stating, "Not many Van Coons in the phonebook." Spotting a taxi, he calls out, "Taxi!" as he waves them down quickly.

On the ride to Van Coons home, he considers why it does not bother him when John ask questions that if other people asked would anger or annoy him. The only thing he can come up with is because John seems to actually care and not treat him like a freak for his logic and mind the way others do.

When they get to the row of flats that Van Coon lives at he tries the buzzer several times before studying the building to determine what the floor layout would be. John inquires about what they should do even as he is formulating a plan for how to get into the flat.

"Just moved in," he mutters looking at the buzzers tags, before he smile at John.

"What?" he inquires, his tone implying he does not understand.

Turning to face the intercom and the buzzer he points to the hand written label that says Wintle. "The floor above. New label."

"Could have just replaced it." his companion suggests.

As he presses the button his glance flickers to John, "No-one ever does that."

"Hello?" a female voice comes from the intercom.

Sherlock looks back at the intercom camera and smiles somewhat sheepishly as he softly comments, "Hi! Um, I live in the flat just below you. I-I don't think we've met." His smile grows a bit, still a tad bit sheepish but completely friendly.

"No, well, uh, I've just moved in." she replies hesitantly.

He quickly throws a I-told-you-so look to his companion before looking down and playing up the sheepish behavior. "Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat." He bites down on his lip, playing on his ability to act.

"D'you want me to buzz you in?" she inquires politely.

"Yeah." He replies nodding, "And can I use your balcony?"

"What?" she questions, tone confused.

Really, some people are way too simple to play with. Well at least it gives him a way to get into the flat and look around. After she lets him in he heads up to her flat while he leaves John at the door to 'his' flat. Once on her balcony he studies the drop between hers and 'his' before carefully dropping down. Carefully opening the balcony door he goes through the various rooms, noting everything. On the intercom he can hear John asking to be let in but he continues to look through the apartment instead. When he comes to the bedroom door he finds it is locked and uses his shoulder to bust it open. Laying across the bed is a dark haired man dressed in a suit and great coat, a bullet hole in his right temple.

Rolling his eyes he goes and buzzes John in so that he can call the police to come investigate the scene. Before they get there however he removes his coat and carefully studies the rest of the scene. By the time the police have gotten there he is just getting ready to look over the body and thus has to share space with the forensics photographer as he slips on a pair of gloves.

"D'you think he'd lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among City boys." John remarks as he watches him, arms crossed across his chest.

Looking over at him he comments, "We don't know that it was suicide." He spots Van Coon luggage and carefully goes through it by sight, barely touching it so not to disturb it.

His companion sounds disbelieving when he states, "Come on. The door was locked from the inside; you had to climb down the balcony."

He ignores that statement, reminding himself that for all John is smarter than the rest of the people here, he is still not as smart as him. "Been away three days, judging by the laundry." He studies the indentation in the clothing, before standing to look at John. "Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it."

Looking away his companion nods once, glancing back at him as he responds, "Thanks – I'll take your word for it."

Confusion mars his features as he queries, "Problem?"

Again John glances at him, as he answers, "Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear."

He glances down for a moment thinking about it before he recalls that John has a far better sense of smell than him. Oh. That would explain it. walking over to the foot of the bed he absently questions, "Those symbols at the bank – the graffiti. Why were they put there?"

He can feel the shorter man's eyes on him as he answers with a question, "What, some sort of code?"

Looking over Van Coons legs and feet, he mutters, "Obviously," before moving on to carefully check his jacket inside pockets. "Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use e-mail?"

Looking over Van Coon, John replies, "Well, maybe he wasn't answering."

He smiles to himself, as he comments, "Oh good. You follow." He is pleased that his companion seems to be keeping up though this pleasure is short lived when John tells him he doesn't. Shooting him a slightly disappointed look he continues speaking as he moves on to examine Van Coon's hands, "What kind of a message would everyone try to avoid?"

The confused look John gives him is mildly frustrating but he encourages John to think it through by asking, "What about this morning – those letters you were looking at?"

"Bills," he murmurs, his confusion clearing away according to his expression.

Prying Van Coon's mouth open slowly he pulls a small black origami flower from inside, the sound of hissing air escapes the dead man's lungs. "Yes. He was being threatened."

In the other room he can hear someone he does not know giving orders. As he slowly straightens, John leans over to look at the paper flower in his hand as he puts it in an evidence bag.

"Not by the gas board," he murmurs.

A plainly dressed man comes walking in, politely, because he has often been reminded that you're supposed to be polite to those who you're working with he heads over to the younger man, offering his hand to shake as he comments, "Ah, Sergeant. We haven't met."

He is mildly confused when the man puts his hands on his hips rather than shake the offered hand. Isn't the polite thing to do to shake his hand? Even if he doesn't like him?

"Yeah, I know who you are; and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." The younger man just about snaps at him.

Lowering his hand, he passes him the evidence bag with the other one before querying, "I've phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?"

Arrogantly the young man answers him, "He's busy. I'm in charge. And it's not Sergeant; it's Detective Inspector. Dimmock."

He knows that he looks surprised but he has a hard time controlling it as he glances over at John questioningly. A moment later Dimmock is leaving the room and the two of them follow him into the living room.

"We're obviously looking at a suicide." Dimmock states as he hands the bag to one of the forensics team members.

John seems to agree with him, though there is a little bit of a question to his voice when he speaks, "That does seem the only explanation of all the facts."

Looking around the room, he takes in the fact that the room is completely set up for a left-handed person, so why would he shoot himself with his right? Since politeness did not seem to work he switches back to his normal blunt way of remarking instead. "Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts." He turns to look Dimmock his tone rather condescending as he continues, "You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it." he also glances over to John who is listening carefully even if he is not watching him.

"Like?" Dimmock inquires looking at him.

"The wound was on the right side of his head." He tells him.

Confusion colors the man's face as he asks, "And?"

"Van Coon was left-handed." He answers, then proceeds to use a variety of bends in order to use his left hand to point at his right temple, none of them match the wound positioning. "Requires quite a bit of contortion."

Still confused Dimmock repeats, "Left-handed?" questioningly.

Sarcasm just about drips from his voice as he remarks, "Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around this flat." Pausing he points to the table beside the sofa, "Coffee table on the left-hand side; coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: habitually used the ones on the left…" he trails off as he points to it and gives them a moment to look before continuing on, "Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. D'you want me to go on?" he glances at Dimmock as he stops again.

Only it is John who answers, "No, I think you've covered it," with his head tilted back and his eyes closed tiredly.

He ignores that however because he is aggravated and states, "Oh, I might as well; I'm almost at the bottom of the list." Out of the corner of his eye he sees John nod as if he knew that was going to be his answer. Motioning to the kitchen he starts back up. "There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." Again he pauses, this time turning to face Dimmock as he remarks, "It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head." Taking a breath he announces, "Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. Only explanation of all the facts."

Still confused Dimmock inquires, "but the gun, why?" his voice trails off as Sherlock snaps at him.

"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened." He walks away at that point, not wishing to speak any more with the dimwit so he goes and starts putting his scarf on.

"What?" he hears the idiot ask.

Since John is right there he answers, explaining, "Today at the bank. Sort of a warning."

As he pulls his coat on, he remarks, "He fired a shot when his attacker came in."

"And the bullet?" Dimmock questions, confusion seeming to be his normal tone.

"Went through the open window," he answers as he buttons up the belstaff.

Disbelief colors the detective inspectors voice as he exclaims, "Oh, come on! What are the chances of that?"

Tugging his first glove on, he answers, "Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun. I guarantee it."

"But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?" Dimmock inquires looking over at him.

Roughly pulling the second on, he condescendingly states, "Good! You're finally asking the right questions," before turning and flouncing away.


	16. Jace

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). This chapter is for all those awesome people who keep leaving me reviews, you're the best! _

_**Warning**: mention of various abuse against a child._

* * *

_Chapter 16  
__John's POV  
_After following Sherlock out of the crime scene the two of them track down Sebastian to tell him about Van Coon. The conversation had been mostly smooth, though or some reason Sherlock had allowed him to speak for the most part, at least until Sebastian had gotten a text. The scent in the room was full of loss from the arsehole and frustration from his potential bondmate. When they had returned to the flat where Sherlock had sprawled out on the sofa, taking up the poise he had come to think of as his thinking one for most of the night. Sometime after two in the morning he had awoken to the sound of the violin being played, a slow melody, lost in thought.

Using the pack link he checks on the human downstairs who is merely trying to figure out what is going on with the case. Shaking his head, he gets comfortable and goes back to sleep listening to the sound of him playing. First thing in the morning he heads to the surgery down the road from the flat, they are currently hiring and he would like to get something to do besides chase after his mad flatmate and potential bondmate.

When he is first asked into the back office the female that he has to deal with seems startled by his mild manners and appearance, however within minutes he can smell her attraction in the air. Sighing internally, he flashes her a polite smile as she reads his curriculum vitae.

"Just locum work," she tells him as she looks up.

He smiles reassuringly, tilting his head a bit as he replies, "That's alright."

Glancing back at his papers mentions, "You're, um ... well, you're a bit over-qualified."

His smile widens a bit, he well knows his skills, particularly the fact that his resume doesn't even include all of them. "Er, I could always do with the money," he tells softly.

Touching a hand to her jaw and then unconsciously brushing her hair from her face as she sets the papers down and answers, "Well, we've got two away on holiday this week, and one's just left to have a baby. Might be a bit mundane for you."

He nods once while listening to show he understands then gives another small smile as he answers, "Er, no; mundane is good sometimes. Mundane works."

Her voice softens as she states, "It says here you were a soldier."

Nodding once he adds, "And a doctor," with a charming smile.

Clasping her hands in front of her she studies the papers once more, querying, "Anything else you can do?"

Trying to think of something not related to his shifter traits he replies, "I learned the clarinet at school."

A burst of a chuckle escapes her as she murmurs, "Well, I look forward to it!" she smiles at him a bit flirty, and her scent reeks of desire.

Smiling politely he gets to his feet and inclines his head to her, telling her to have a good day. Before she can react, he is gone, out the door and out of the building into the London air. Prior to finding his bondmate he might have enjoyed playing with her for a while because she was a lovely looking woman with a decent scent, however with his bondmates scent clear in his mind, he finds her attraction to be a bit annoying instead.

During the walk back to the flat a slender dark haired teen approaches him, stopping a few feet away and inclining his head so the nape of his neck is visible. He stops, eyes narrowing on the neck, mind determining species and pack, or in his case lack of pack.

"Alpha," his voice is soft, low so those around them pay no attention to the stranger teenager.

He lifts his head, blue eyes narrowing as he takes a careful sniff of the air. According to the markings on the boys neck he is an elite, but the type seems to be a bit off, they show as the wolf markings for the most part but the bottom of them is that of the lynx. A rather rare combination. According to the scent he had just taken in the boy was a mutt, he could smell wolf, lynx, mouse, and crow in him, though the first two are the dominate scents. He has no pack mark, the spot that generally has that is empty.

Sighing, his mind reaches for his beta, Is someone keeping an eye on Sherlock?

It takes a moment before the response comes through, Of course, today is Maria, she volunteered.

He send a mental nod in response before turning his attention back to the boy, "There is a café two blocks over, lets go."

The boy nods once, straighten but keeping his eyes down cast. As the two of them walk he falls two steps behind, still looking at the ground. So he was raised by one of the packs that uses the old values. When they reach the small café, he opens the door but the boy does not enter, waiting instead for him. Sighing, he goes to the table he generally shares with Sherlock and takes a seat, motioning for the boy to sit across from him.

"Alright then, you've presented yourself to me for a reason, you can explain it while you eat, I can smell your hunger even if I could not hear your stomach growling." He tells the teenager, watching as a blush colors his features and he quickly glances up before just as quickly dropping his gaze. "Is there something in particular you want?"

"I…" the teen mutters, clearly surprised.

When the waitress comes over she greets him as an old customer, asking if he wants his usual, he smiles at her, and nods, "Please do Anamarie," then he motions to the kid, "for him though, I'll eat when I get back to the flat."

She nods and goes to put in his order.

"I…" the kid starts again, still not seeming to get pass his shock.

_Will this be easier? _He inquires using the telepathy that all shifter are born with.

The boys head jerks up and he stares at him hard. Finally he brings himself to answer, "I, no, I never learned to use the telepath. Mother's pack thought I was not worthy."

He nods, watching the kid, and focuses on putting him at ease using the natural pheromones that all shifters scent and alphas learn to control. "Go on," he gently prods the teen.

He is just about to talk when Anamarie comes back over with a tray of food on it and sets it all down in front of the kid except for a second tea that she gives to John with a smile.

"This is too much," he murmurs, shocked.

He gives a small shake of his head, smiling reassuringly at the kid, "It really is not. Now lets start simple, your name?"

"Jace," he replies as he starts to eat, "Jace L…" he stops himself, blushing, "just Jace," he eventually mutters.

He nods, if the boy had been raised pack with old pack values, then he would consider himself to be nameless since he is not currently in a pack. "Nice to meet you Jace, I am Doctor John Watson," he introduces himself to the boy, not using his pack title in this situation.

The boy nods slowly, keeping his eyes on his throat.

"So of all the alpha's out there, why me?" he inquires, watching the boy carefully.

A flush spreads across his skin as he answers, "You're the only one I have heard of that accepts mutts." He swallows hard, "I…" he gives a shake of his head before continuing, "I'm a mutt, too undisciplined, not fast or smart enough, but I don't want to be packless, I would rather be an omega than packless."

It takes everything in John not to growl low in his throat. He's not pissed at the boy but he is definitely pissed, however like the good alpha he is, he controls his anger so it does not change his scent. Children should never be made to feel like that, particularly not for something that is not within their control.

_Jacob, come to the small café by the flat. Now. Bring Daria with you, _he sends the order to his beta without any of the normal politeness that he prefers to use.

_Sir, _is the nearly instant reply that he receives.

"Have you ever attacked a fellow pack member with the intent to do them great harm? Lied, stole, murdered, or raped someone?" he asks the boys softly.

The boy shakes his head violently, "No! I would never, no, no, no, no!" he answers, his scent full of worry and fear but completely honest.

He nods once, "Alright then," pushing off his jacket, he deftly unfastens the buttons on his left wrist, holding it upright in the same manner as he had during the pack meeting just a few weeks prior. "It is your choice, I can tell you I doubt you would be an omega, you do not have the personality of one. Past that, I can see, hear, and smell nothing wrong with you, I am guessing that you are currently homeless or damn close to being homeless, yes?"

The boy cannot help but stare at him in shock, he can tell he had not actually expect things to go in the way he hoped. "I yes," the boy mutters, blushing again. Slowly as if unsure he removes his coat to show rather worn and ill-fitting clothing. Pushing up his right sleeve he tentative reaches forward but stops just short as if scared.

Smiling, John completes the link, enfolding the boy within the pack and a feeling of warmth. Apparently this surprises the boy who can do nothing but stare at him.

"Go on, finish eating." He suggests to the boy as he releases his arm.

Slowly the teen goes back to eating, his emotions running high within the pack link as he settles into it. For the next few minutes the two of them are silent as he waits for the beta and iota of the pack. According to the boys behavior this was something that he was used to. Though he did seem to relax a bit more with some mental prompting and calm being promoted through scent.

When Jacob comes striding in, Daria and Nathan close behind him, their small group quickly makes their way over to where the two of them are seated.

Inclining his head a little Jacob greats him, "Sir," _that was unusual for you to use the link rather than the phones. _

He smiles up at his beta, a low chuckle escaping, "Jacob, Daria, Nathan, this is Jace, our newest pack member," he tells the trio, his voice low so others do not listen.

Daria reaches out capturing the boys right hand, her eyes glazing for a moment as she did a rapid evaluation of his health. "Welcome to the family," she murmurs as she releases him.

His eyes are wide as he stares at her.

"I ummm…" his voice trails off and John realizes he does not know how to address them.

"Jace this is Jacob, the beta of the pack, the lovely female you're blushing at is Daria, the packs iota, beside her is her mate Nathan, one of the packs upsilon." He tells the teenager, pointing at each in turn.

Blushing the boy presents his neck as he mumbles a greeting.

"None of us are wolves boy, so that is pointless to do." Nathan informs him in his low voice.

The boys head jerks up to stare at them. "What?"

Jacob smiles at him, taking a seat, as does Daria though Nathan stays standing beside her.

"I'm a falcon, these two are vipers," his beta tells the boy, "most members of the pack with rank, or who you will deal with the most for now are not wolves or they are mixed breeds."

"Really?" seems to burst from his lips before he has a chance to stop himself and then he is blushing again.

Getting to his feet, John smiles at the kid, telling him, "Really, Jacob here will make sure you have somewhere to stay and will take you to get a few outfits. Tomorrow you can speak with Cyanne to see where you are in your education and whatever training you will need. Currently the alpha-second is working, however when he is done I will see if he will take you to get a proper wardrobe. In the next few weeks a permanent home will be found for you among the pack."

The boys eyes get wide as he stares at him, disbelief and hope swamping his scent. "Jacob please make sure he has enough to eat, use my account to pay for it, Daria a word outside if you will."

The two of them nod, with her rising to her feet gracefully to follow him out. When the two of them step outside he looks at her, the anger he had felt coming to the surface. "Well, I know that look, you're not happy."

"He was abused, mentally, emotionally, physically, and sexually. On repeated occasions." She tells him bluntly, her voice a low hiss.

"Find out which pack he was born to, then give the information to Eric, I want a complete report by the time this case is done." He orders hers, his tone cold in his fury. "Heal whatever damage you can. Make sure whoever accepts him into their family understands that he will have difficulties."

She nods once, then comments, "He's also been partially bound. He is trapped in human shape but his power is still there, burning beneath the surface. That's not safe."

"Deal with it, I believe either you or Jacob can unlock it, if not call me and I will." He answers her.

"May I skin the person responsible for this crime? Children are supposed to be cherished." Her hissing is more pronounced on the 's' and 'c' a clear sign that she is extremely pissed.

"I'll be taking them in front of the council, and if the council does not satisfy my anger, I'll challenge them. There are very few wolves who can keep up with me in my other form." He reassures her. "Take care of the boy, I need to go check with Sherlock to make sure he is not blowing things up."

She nods, going back into the small café while he continues on his way home. As soon as this case was wrapped up he was going to be paying someone a visit of the unfriendly kind. It was rare for one of their children to end up in a situation like Jace was in but it still occasionally happened. Jackal's tended to foster all non-shifter children to other non-shifter jackals that still had ties to the pack, thus if they produced shifter children it was not hard to pull them in. Nearly every wolf pack accepted children who were mixed or human as part of the pack without treating them any differently. Every species had their own standards, but one thing the councils of all the species agreed on was you did not abuse a child.

Reaching the flat, he carefully clears his mind before going in. He does not wish to distract Sherlock with his anger. This would be dealt with soon enough.


	17. Paint

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). This chapter is for all those awesome people who keep leaving me reviews, you're the best! _

* * *

_Chapter 17  
__John's POV  
_Upon walking into the flat he was presented with Sherlock seated in the armchair in front of the fireplace, staring at the mirror surrounded by pictures of the crime scene. His hands are steepled in just below his jaw and in the same manner as when he sprawl on the sofa to think. He smiles a little to himself as he looks him over.

"I said, can you pass me a pen?" the taller man inquires as he continues to stare at the images.

For a moment he glances around, startled and unsure whether he is talking to him or not but then he realizes that he really is. "What? When?" he inquires after dropping his coat on his chair.

"'Bout an hour ago," comes the taller man's answer.

Shaking his head a little, "Didn't notice I'd gone out, then", he mutters as he picks a pen up from the table, tossing to the other man with ease. He's not surprised when Sherlock catches it without bothering to look towards him, that man's reflexes are as graceful as a cats. A cat was actually what he considered his graceful potential bondmate to be, probably a panther or a lynx going by his personality. "Yeah, I went to see about a job at that surgery."

The taller man does not move as he inquires, "How was it?"

Absently he responds, "It's great. It will be just what I need."

"Why?" the human inquires slightly confused.

He smiles, turning to look at him, "I like to feel useful," he answers the taller human.

His dark-haired companion looks at him suspiciously for a moment, before closing his eyes and inclining his head towards his laptop where a web page is opened to.

"Hmmm?" he murmurs, curiously he walks over and looks it over. After reading it he article quickly he mutters, "The intruder who can walk through walls."

Still staring straight at the pictures on the wall, his tall companion remarks, "Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside – exactly the same as Van Coon."

Straightening, he turns to look at the dark-haired human, softly stating, "God, you think…" his voice trails off as Sherlock speaks up.

"He's killed another one."

A little bit later, after one short cab ride later, the two of them are standing in front of the young detective inspectors Dimmock's desk while Sherlock is typing away on a laptop.

"Brian Lukis, freelance journalist. Murdered in his flat," his dark-haired companion pauses for a moment to flip the laptop around to face the detective inspector, "doors locked from the inside."

The detective inspector looks at the page in annoyance as he comments, "You've gotta admit, it's similar. Both men killed by someone who can," he hesitates a moment on the next part, "walk through solid walls."

His voice serious and his scent full of annoyance, Sherlock demands, "Inspector, do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another City suicide?"

The human in the seat squirms a bit, not meeting his dark-haired companion's eyes.

Sighing, his dark-haired companion looks at the ceiling for a moment before locking his eyes on the detective inspector and commenting questioningly, "You have seen the ballistics report, I suppose?"

Nodding rapidly, the detective inspector still will not meet Sherlock's eyes as he hums a confirmative.

Impatiently, his frustration bleeding over into his voice he demands, "And the shot that killed him: was it fired from his own gun?"

The detective inspector gives a quick shake of his head as he reluctantly admits, "No."

Snapping at the D.I., Sherlock remarks, "No. So this investigation might move a bit quicker if you were to take my word as gospel." As he speaks he looks around agitatedly before his gaze returns to the silent detective inspector. Leaning forward and bracing himself on the desk, his voice drops as he informs him, "I just handed you a murder enquiry." His tone hardens, going back to normal as he demands, "Five minutes in his flat."

Dimmock sighs, nodding once. Before he can say or do anything else, Sherlock has stood and spun on his heel, leaving the yard. Sighing again, the detective inspector quickly gets to his feet, following the tall man out into the street, and muttering, "Come one, we'll use the regular car since you won't get in a police car."

He can smell the frustration from the detective inspector, just as he can smell the triumph from his dark-haired human. Sherlock nods, accepting this idea, and the three of them get into the detective inspectors vehicle with the detective inspector driving. A few minutes later the trio are on their way up a set of steps into Brian Lukis' flat after ducking under the police tape in front of the door.

He glances around, discreetly sniffing the air and catching the scent of something familiar from Van Coon's flat but not yet identifying it. He knew that he would be able to identify it if he was to smell it in person, it was only that there were too many human scents covering it up at this point. Keeping an eye on both the detective inspector and Sherlock he waits patiently, considering everything that he knows so far.

"Four floors up," his dark-haired human murmurs as he looks out the window. Pausing to take a deep breath, he continues, glancing around, "That's why they think they're safe. Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut; think they're impregnable." He walks around the flat for a moment, still murmuring to himself as he goes, "They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in."

The tall human spins around, looking up and he follows his gaze noticing the skylight.

Confusion pours off of the detective inspector as he states, "I don't understand."

Heading towards the landing with the skylight above it, Sherlock replies, "You're dealing with a killer who can climb."

Hopping on a stool beneath the skylight, he unhooks the window latch as the detective inspector inquires, "What are you doing?"

Voice soft, he answers, "He clings to the walls like an insect." Shoving the window up and open he continues speaking, "That's how he got in."

"What?" Dimmock exclaims staring at him.

Staring at the window just above him, his dark-haired human explains, "Climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through this skylight."

Disbelief colors both Dimmock's tone and scent as he responds, "You're not serious! Like Spiderman?"

Turning to face him, Sherlock remarks, "He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon."

Laughing in disbelief, the detective inspector shakes his head looking down, "Oh, ho-hold on!"

His dark-haired human ignores this as he continues to speak, "And of course that's how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace." Stepping off the stool he looks around, his gaze going to the piles of books as he mutters, "We have to find out what connects these two men."

Without saying another word to the detective inspector, Sherlock bolts out the door, John following close behind in amusement over the two of them. By the time the detective inspector gets to the street, Sherlock has already hailed a cab, and he gives a small wave as he joins his tall companion in it. After a silent ride to the library that Sherlock had directed their cab to, they find themselves going to the section that the book is from after a moment's consideration from Sherlock.

"Date stamped on the book is the same day that he died." He murmurs as he walks along the isle, glancing at the book spine to double check its number code.

While Sherlock pulls books off of the shelf the book in his hands is from, he pulls from the rack across and one over from it. Something catches his attention behind one of the books, so he continues to tug them off muttering, "Sherlock."

His tall companion turns, pulling more of the books off and looking at the yellow paint he is staring at. Dropping the books he pulls his phone and takes more pictures, before turning to leave.

John sighs, quickly picking them up and shoving them back on the shelf before following his focused potential bondmate back to the street to hail another cab. As they ride back to Baker Street he texts his sister.

-Do we have any cabbies in the wolf part of our pack?- JW

It is a few minutes before she replies, -I don't think so, why?-HW

He sighs before answering her, -Sherlock likes to use a cab when he is not on foot. I was thinking it would be easier to keep track of him if one or two of us used a cab because then he would have his protection in that form too.- JW

They had just pulled up to their flat when she replies, -Do you want me to check into it?- HW

-No. I'll have Eric do so. He can find a few trust worthy cabbies. Or ones that he can control.- JW

-Okay. Be careful.- HW

As they walk up the steps he switches to texting the black cobra of their group with some directions.

-Please find four cabbies who are trustworthy or can be made trustworthy. I will email you more details.-JW

-Please. That's easy. Information on the boy in your inbox.-Tech

He doesn't bother responding, knowing that the cobra does not actually expect one. Instead he listens as Sherlock downloads the pictures from his phone and prints them off before adding them to the wall where he has the others. Then the two of them stand side by side in front of it, studying them.

"So, the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher for Van Coon; Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment, locks himself in." his tall companion recaps as he looks between each image, "Hours later, he dies."

Picking up where he leaves off, John states, "The killer finds Lukis at the library; he writes the cipher on the shelf where he knows it'll be seen; Lukis goes home."

Softly, he inquires, "Why did they die, Sherlock?"

Lifting his hand, Sherlock traces the line painted on Sir William's face as he murmurs, "Only the cipher can tell us." For a moment he taps his finger against the picture as he thinks about it.

His scent goes from thoughtful to delighted as he spins and heads out, grabbing his coat as he goes. Sighing, John gives a shake of his head and follows.

A brief while later the two of them are walking through Trafalgar Square, walking towards the National Gallery and Sherlock is explaining to him about codes. "The world's run on codes and ciphers, John. From the million-pound security system at the bank, to the PIN machine you took exception to, cryptography inhabits our every waking moment."

He nods once, "Yes, okay, but," he trails off, waiting for his dark-haired human to continue explaining.

"But it's all computer-generated: electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different. It's an ancient device. Modern code-breaking methods won't unravel it." he completes the thought.

Curious, he glances over at him, asking, "Where are we headed?"

Looking around as if trying to spot someone, he replies, "I need to ask some advice."

A smile curves his lips as he hears his potential bondmate admit to not knowing everything. "What? Sorry?" he queries as he tries not to chuckle.

Giving him a dark look Sherlock responds, "You heard me."

Despite the expression on his potential bondmate's face, his scent does not fill with any of the darker emotions and he feels safe inquiring, "You need advice?"

"On painting, yes. I need to talk to an expert." Comes the short tempered reply as they walk around the National Gallery to the rear of the building where a young man is finishing spray painting a stenciled sketch on a grey metal door.

As the two of them stop on either side of the young man, he comments, "Part of a new exhibition." Without ever looking away from the painting.

"Interesting," Sherlock replies, his tone implying otherwise as he pulls his phone out and loads the pictures.

Chuckling a little the young man states, "I call it Urban Bloodlust Frenzy."

Glancing over at it, he takes in the image of a policeman holding a rifle and a pigs nose instead of is human one. At the bottom it is signed Raz. "Catchy," he murmurs, trying not to sneeze at the smell of the spray paint which is messing with his ability to scent things.

Still spraying, Raz comments, "I've got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes round that corner." He pauses, looking over to Sherlock, "Can we do this while I'm workin'?"

Silently his dark-haired human passes his phone to the spray painter, inquiring, "Know the author?" as the younger man flicks through the images on it.

When the younger man is done he replies, "Recognize the paint. It's like Michigan; hardcore propellant. I'd say zinc."

Nodding towards the phone Sherlock queries, "What about the symbols: d'you recognize them?"

Frowning the young man flips through the images again, answering, "Not even sure it's a proper language."

Briefly glancing towards him, the taller human leans closer to the young man, his voice taking on an edge to it as he informs him, "Two men have been murdered, Raz. Deciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them."

Looking between the two of us, the young man hold's the phone out towards Sherlock as he asks, "What, and this is all you've got to go on? It's hardly much, now, is it?"

Eyes narrow, Sherlock demands, "Are you gonna help us or not?"

Raz nods once, biting his lip before replying, "I'll ask around."

"Somebody must know something about it," his tall companion remarks.

Before any more conversation can be had, a man's voice shouts, "Oi!" Sherlock grabs his phone from Raz and bolts, while Raz drops the other can of spray paint and does the same. Knowing he is not getting far, John does the same thing he would have done in a combat situation, and pulls up the shielding that makes him unnoticeable and slowly walks away as the two Community Support Officers reach the bag. The first one kicks the bag once, moving the cans before turning to walk away grumbling about kids and their paints.

He slowly sets the can on the ground a little ways away and keeps on walking.

Reaching out with his mind, he queries of Elspeth, _Are you still watching the alpha-second?_

_**Indeed. He's fast, but not as fast as me. Good save there, Maria showed me. **_She replies, sending an image of where Sherlock is currently at and heading.

_Thanks, vanishing is something I excel at, which saved my arse plenty of times in Afghanistan._ He replies as he un-shields and walks calmly down the street towards the flat.

Using his phone he accesses his email and reads all the information on Jace's birth pack. With each word he reads his anger increases but he keeps it tightly controlled so it does not echo through the pack link. By the time he reaches the flat he is furious and wishes to get this case wrapped up soon as possible so he can switch gears.

As he walks into the flat, he slams the door in his anger.

Looking at the new sheets that he sees have been added, his flatmate comments, "You've been a while."

Turning briskly he replies, "I had something I needed to think about." His voice relays the tightly controlled emotions though he does not allow them anywhere near his link to the other members of his pack.

Glancing at him in the mirror the dark-haired human looks at him speculatively for a moment before slamming the book in his hands shut and muttering, "This symbol, I still can't place it."

Turning, the taller man stops him from pulling his jacket off, by pushing it back on him. John's breath catches as he imagines the opposite in his head and he is only partially aware of what Sherlock is telling him. "No, I need you to go to the police station," he finally catches on to what he is being told "ask about the journalist."

Exasperated he grumbles, "Oh Jesus." _Are you still nearby?_

_**Of course, I am actually in the flat, as a multiform it is fairly simple for me to mask my scent. I am the mouse sitting **__**under the sofa that the alpha-second hasn't noticed yet.**_

He can't help but smile at that as Sherlock grabs his coat and heads towards the door still speaking, "His personal effects will have been impounded. Get hold of his diary, or something that will tell us his movements."

The two of them head down stairs and he catches a glimpse of a sleek black and grey tabby shooting past them as they go out onto the street. His potential bondmate is still speaking, "Gonna go and see Van Coon's P.A. If we retrace their steps, somewhere they'll coincide," with that the taller human walks off down the street, never seeming to notice the cat staying pretty much beside him.

A feeling of being watched makes him scan the area carefully as he hails a taxi. A moment later, he spots an Oriental-looking woman dressed in dark clothes and glasses taking pictures in his direction.

_Maria, follow that Oriental woman,_ he tells his guardian, showing her with his mind. _I am going to the yard. Once you know where she is going or who she is get the information to Eric._

_**Alrighty, do you want me to call you another assistant?**_ She replies.

_No, I am fairly good at taking care of myself. _Leaning down to the taxi drivers window he tells him, "Scotland Yard." Before straightening up to get in.

"Right," the driver comments.

As he takes a seat he cannot see her anymore but is sure that Maria will have no problems keeping up.

The ride to the yard goes quickly, and within a surprisingly little amount of time he is speaking with Detective Inspector Dimmock. Thankfully enough the detective inspector does not seem to mind what he has asked, and fetches the box with all of the Lukis' items in it.

As the younger man is going through the box he comments, "Your friend…" his voice trails off as if he is looking for a good way to put whatever it is he is going to say.

"Listen, I am probably going to agree with whatever you are going to say." He inserts into the pause.

"He's an arrogant sod," comes the detective inspectors rest of his sentence.

Looking down at the box, he comments, "Well, that was mild! People say a lot worse than that." Perhaps this young detective inspector is a decent sort.

Offering him the diary, the younger man gives a small smile before questioning, "This is what you wanted, isn't it? The journalist's diary?"

Taking the diary, he glances through it, finding a page bookmarked with a boarding pass marked Dalian DLC to London LHR on Zhuang Airlines. "Thank you," he tells the detective inspector.

Following the events of the day, he walks to most of the places listed. When he gets to the road with a Chinese shop on it he is startled when he bumps into Sherlock because neither of them are really paying attention. Before he has a chance to say anything, the taller man is speaking rapid fire and barely breathing between sentences so he just lets him go until he pauses for a breath.

"That shop over there," he answers the question about where he had went, pointing at it as he does so.

The dark-haired human looks between the shop and him, frowning, "How can you tell?" he finally asks, his scent filling with frustration momentarily.

Holding up the diary he replies, "Lukis' diary," flipping it open to the bookmarked page he shows it to the taller man, "he was here too. He wrote down the address." Without waiting for his companion he turns and heads to the shop knowing that he would not be far behind. A small smile curves his lips that he finally got to the answer a tad bit faster than the genius.

"Oh," he mutters, his scent clearing back up as he follows behind.

As the two of them enter the small shop which has a great many decorative cats sitting on their hind legs and waving with one front paw raised, he greets the shop keeper politely.

She tries to sell him a lucky cat but he politely rebuffs her on every turn as he looks over the items in the store. Eventually, picking one of the small tea cups and turning it over he spots the price sticker only it is not in normal numbers. It is in the code that had been left at the bank and library.

"Sherlock," he comments, catching the other man's attention.

Quickly setting down the small statue he had just lifted without looking at it, he comes over to were John is standing. Tilting the label towards him, he murmurs, "The label there."

"Yes, I see it," he answers, his tone distracted. He can just about hear the thoughts going through his mind.

"Exactly the same as the cipher." He comments, his voice still low. He clears his throat as he sets the cup down and the two of them leave the shop.

_**The Lucky Cat? See the Chinese understand perfectly.**_ He hears Elspeth comment once they are on the street.

He rolls his eyes, not replying as he listens to the tall man at his side work through the information. "It's an ancient number system! Hangzhou. These days, only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank and at the library."

Stopping by a greengrocer's he looks over the tags, matching the numbers from the spray paint to the tags. "Numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect."

Joining the taller man he looks over the tags as well, commenting, "It's a fifteen! What we thought was the artist's tag – it's a number fifteen." As he spots the one that correlates with it.

Waving one of the tags around Sherlock continues excitedly, "And the blindfold – the horizontal line? That was a number as well." He pauses the waving long enough to show it to him before triumphantly grinning, "The Chinese number one, John."

In the air something catches his attention again and he spots the woman from the street in front of their flat still with the camera and dark outfit. He frowns, considering going after her, but a person steps between them and when they move she is gone.

_Maria are you still tracking her?_ he queries of the canine multiform.

_**Yes sir I am, I'd wave to you but she is on the move again.**_ Comes her soft reply.

He nods, and follows after Sherlock who had walked away without ever noticing that he was being photographed. For someone so bright he sure had his thick moments.


	18. Soo Lin

_Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle._

_Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). This chapter is for all those awesome people who keep leaving me reviews, you're the best! _

* * *

_Chapter 18  
__John's POV  
_The two of them head to the Piazza Espresso Bar Italiano directly across from the Lucky Cat. There they are both sitting at a table, watching it curiously while writing out notes on what is going on. Speaking softly they discuss the situation at hand, including the fact that the both of them seem to be smugglers of Chinese items and the reasoning behind why both were killed. Shortly after the waitress brings him some food, Sherlock spots something across the street, his eyes narrowing.

"Remind me when the last time that it rained?" he queries right before he gets up and leaves, heading over to the small flat across the streets door.

Sighing, he takes a couple more quick bites before dropping some money on the table and following the taller man.

When he stops next to his companion he listens as Sherlock comments, "It's been here since Monday." After ringing the doorbell and not receiving any sort of response he waits a couple of seconds, then looks to the right and heads off in that direction. They walk down the alley besides the flat and Sherlock remarks, "No one's been in that flat for at least three days."

Despite the unlikeliest of it, he still suggests, "Could've gone on holiday."

Sarcastically the taller man rebukes him, "D'you leave your windows open when you go on holiday?" Without waiting for an answer he takes a short run at the fire escape, jumping up and pulling it down before quickly going up it. Almost as soon as the tall human was at the top it swung back into place. Quickly he scoots through the window.

Sighing, he calls out, "Sherlock!" before going around to the front in hopes that his partner will open the door which he does not. For a few moments he tries to get Sherlock to open the door but eventually realizes that will not happen. When he hears Sherlock weakly call his name he bolts to the back of the building again, shifting as he goes and lunging without thought at the side of it, using it as a bouncing point to get to the fire escape. As he goes through the window he goes from wolf to human, spotting the man trying to strangle his bondmate.

He sees red as he darts forward, foot connecting with the back of Sherlock's attacker's knee. The attacker lets go and turns swinging at him before dropping something and bolting out the window.

For a moment he considers chasing him but instead stays with his bondmate, checking his throat and using a small amount of his healing gift to clear the bruising before it can form. "You alright?" he demands, helping him to his feet.

Sherlock blinks at him a few times before answering, "Yeah," he pauses for a moment, taking a breath as the two of them head to the front door. "The, uh, milk's gone off and the washing's starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago."

"Somebody?" he repeats, his mind going over the scene he was just in, that person had smelled of shifter though it was not a variety he had known. So that made it one of the Asian or American types. Considering all of the things having to do with China in this case, he was strongly leaning towards Asian.

"Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her." at the door he stops, leaning down to pick something up. When he straightens, he is holding an envelope with writing on the back. After opening it up to see the print on it, he suggests, "maybe we could start with this."

The two of them head out the door and down the street to catch a cab.

_**I did not go after him Elder, in case you need assistance or another was here. Was I supposed to?**_ Elspeth comments as she steps up beside him, her tone is full of worry.

It's not so much that he can feel her, because she is currently shielded, as he is aware of her in the pack link. _No. _he replies, _you made the correct choice. Always stay with him unless I give an order otherwise. _

_**Alright Elder,**_ She replies, her tone more relaxed.

Once Sherlock has gotten a cab the three of them get into it, though Sherlock does not actually notice that there is three from what he can tell and they take the cab to the National Antiquities Museum. At the museum, they make their way inside to find and speak with Andy since he seems to be the last link to the missing young woman.

As he paces around the display area looking at the different displays, his dark-haired human inquires, "When was the last time that you saw her?"

Andy stands perfectly still with his hands in his pockets as he answers, his voice is full of worry, "Three days ago, um, here at the museum." He pauses for a moment, looking between him and his companion before continuing, "Three days ago, um, here at the museum. Just left her work unfinished." His tone says that he has a hard time believing that she left because she wanted to, that he is concern about her.

Turning to face the museum worker, the dark-haired human asks, "What was the last thing that she did on her final afternoon?"

Nodding the young man quickly takes them downstairs to the basement, explaining as he goes about what she was doing. "She does this demonstration for the tourists – a-a tea ceremony. So she would have packed up her things and just put them in here." He leads them through the room, stopping by a stacks and beginning to open it.

Only Sherlock is drawn to something in the shadowy corner of the room and goes to look at it. Turning to see what it is that caught his dark-haired companion's attention he is mildly surprised to see a statue of a nude woman with yellow paint on her. For a few minutes his dark-haired human studies it before turning on his heel and leaving.

When they get outside, night has fallen and as soon as they are away from Andy, Sherlock comments, "We have to get to Soo Lin Yao."

Buttoning up his jacket, he replies, "If she's still alive."

"Sherlock!" a familiar voice calls as the spray painter from earlier comes trotting up.

Sighing, he remarks "Oh, look who it is."

Stopping in front of his tall companion, Roz tells him, "Found something you'll like," before trotting off again.

Smiling faintly, they follow, though Sherlock is a bit faster moving. A few minutes later we are passing over the Hungerford Bridge, heading towards the south side of the river.

_**Elder, that female is still following you. **_ He hears Maria comment, as they continue down to the South Bank Skate Park.

_Thank you for telling me, keep watching her. one of her people is a shifter of some Asian variety._ He tells her as they pass across the under-croft.

_**Yes Elder,**_ she replies before breaking the link off.

When the trio stops it is for Raz to point out an area with the yellow paint marking the Chinese symbols. Part of it has already been painted over, though not all of it. "There, I spotted it earlier," the spray painted comments.

Studying it for a moment his tall companion remarks, "They have been here." Then his focus shifts to Raz as he queries, "And that's the exact same paint?"

"Yeah," the younger man replies.

"John, if we're going to decipher this code, we're gonna need to look for more evidence." His companion tells him before the two of them decide to split up.

He is not worried about it because he knows that Elspeth is still watching over him. Because the one was a shifter, that means that this is a shifter matter, meaning it is more than allowable to bring the others in. He is already formulating a plan as they search as to how to track them down, though he is certain that Maria will be of assistance in that subject. Eventually he finds a wall covered in Chinese symbols painted on it and takes several pictures before trying to call Sherlock when that does not work he reaches for Elspeth to inquire where they are at. She quickly fills him in and he is shortly there, telling him about the wall and leading him back to it only for it to be repainted already. Something that confuses him because he should have smelled the person if they were near. Unless they were a multiform or a human, his mind corrects him. Remember the only shifter smell in the flat had been male, not female, the female was human. So it is a shifter-human team, well damn that means not allowed to use old world rules to deal with it.

When Sherlock spots that the wall has been painted over he grabs his head within his bigger hands leaning towards him a bit.

"Hey, Sherlock, what are you doing?" he questions the taller man as he tries to force his body to stop reacting to the touch. He can feel the burn on his wrist as the bondmate mark changes just a little.

"Shhhh, John," he commands him, "concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes."

Now that was rather silly of him, his eyes are already closed, it was the only way to keep from reacting even further to his frustrating bondmate's touch. "Why?" he queries still keeping his eyes shut and trying to think of everything but the physical contact.

Sherlock's hands shift from his head to his upper arms as he slowly spins them around and the wolf in him can do nothing but laugh at his silly human. He really needs to learn to let other people speak sometimes he thinks as he listens to him babble. "I need you to maximize your visual memory. Try to picture what you saw. Can you picture it?"

"Yeah," he answers.

"Can you remember it?" comes his next breathless question.

"Yes, definitely."

"Can you remember the pattern?"

"Yes."

"How much can you remember it?" his human demands.

"Well, don't worry," he begins but is cut off.

"Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate."

He grins carefully, breaking Sherlock's hold and reaching a hand up to his temple. Focusing on the image he shares it with him, showing the taller man the painting through his eyes. While he is doing that his other hand fishes through his pocket, pulling out his phone to show him.

"I got pictures and there is that." He tells his human with a chuckle as he stares at him in shock. One hand slowly lifting to touch the side of his face.

"How?" the normally clearly spoken human demands to know, staring at him.

His smile grows a bit as he replies, "Pack link, I can bridge and share information with anyone within it. We just tend not to do that often because it can be a bit annoying or awkward." He shrugs, still smiling, "Here's the pictures, I thought you might want to print them off for the wall."

The tall human nods, a light blush staining his cheeks as he looks at them. Not a word is said as they turn to head back to the flat.

* * *

At the flat, Sherlock has taken the image and blown it up, printed it off, and wrote out what each of the symbols on it means. As he does so he mutters, "Always in pairs."

Sitting at the table, he has decided to cat-nap, knowing that he is not going to get a full night sleep until this case is done. So when his bondmate starts speaking, his mind clicks on to listen, even as his body rests.

"Numbers come with partners. Why did he paint it so near the tracks?" the tall human continues to mutter.

Giving a small shrug he answers, "No idea."

"Thousands of people pass by there every day," he pauses for a moment, his voice going low and breathy as he murmurs, "Of course. Of course! He wants information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back. Somewhere here in the code."

He hears him remove some of the pictures from the wall as he walks towards the door, stating, "We can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao."

With his body still on autopilot he gets up to follow his mad potential bondmate, because who else thinks skipping to sleep is a good idea?

* * *

Despite the earliness of the hour, they are able to meet up with Andy back at the National Antiquities Museum in the display room they had met with him in earlier.

Standing with his hands tucked into his pockets, his dark-haired human stares hard at Andy as he states, "Two men who travelled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in the Hangzhou numerals."

He picks up where Sherlock left off, explaining, "Soo Lin Yao's in danger. Now, that cipher – it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well." He stands perfectly still, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watches the younger man's reactions.

Fear and desperation are the predominate scents that Andy is giving off as he answers, "Look, I've tried everywhere: um, friends, colleagues. I-I don't know where she's gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away."

He spots that Sherlock's attention has been drawn to something in the displays. "What are you looking at?" he inquires.

He points at the tea pots in the display case, commanding, "Tell me more about those tea pots."

Both Andy and him, turn to face the case that Sherlock is pointing at, Andy slowly answering the question, his scent now layered with confusion. "Th-the pots were her obsession. Um, they need urgent work. If-if they dry out, then the clay can start to crumble. Apparently you have to just keep making tea in them."

Striding over to the display case, his tall human leans over and studies them closely for a moment before commenting, "Yesterday, only one of those pots was shining. Now there are two."

Sherlock turns to smile at him, and he can just about hear the plan whirling in his dark-haired human's head.

* * *

Several hours have passed while they wait when a shadowy figure slowly emerges from where she was hidden to take an un-shining tea pot out and retreat to start working on it in her hidden station. The two men silently follow.

"Fancy a biscuit with that?" his tall human asks, startling the human female who smells vaguely of the shifter he could not identify yet human. She jumps, gasping and dropping the tea pot which Sherlock quickly catches before it hits the floor. "Centuries old. Don't want to break that." He tells her in a low, breathy growl as he looks up at her face.

Straightening up slowly so not to scare her worse, he hands the tea pot back to her then reaches out and clicks on the desk light. Smiling down at her he merely says, "Hello."

Now that she knows that they are there, he steps out of the shadows, stepping up next to his tall human and smiling at her reassuringly.

She sets the pot down and takes a seat on the little stool. "You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me," she comments her voice serene despite the situation, her scent accepting.

"You've been clever to avoid him so far," his tall human remarks watching her closely.

She looks at her pots, stating, "I had to finish ... to finish this work. It's only a matter of time. I know he will find me."

With a surprisingly gentle tone from his flatmate, he inquires, "Who is he? Have you met him before?"

She nods, answering him, "When I was a girl, living back in China. I recognize his," she pauses as if looking for the right word, "'signature'."

"The cipher," Sherlock states, his tone implying the question.

She looks up, staring directly at the dark-haired human as she informs him, "Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu."

"Zhi Zhu?" he inquires, his mind quickly connecting the dots. The scent, his mind supplies, there was blood relation between this woman and the man who attempted to strangle his mate. Siblings. They are siblings.

Glancing at Sherlock he translates, "The Spider."

Unlacing her right shoe, she takes it off and shows her heel to the two men. On it is a black tattoo of a lotus flower within a circle. "You know this mark?" she inquires, looking at dark-haired human.

He nods once replying softly, "Yes, it's the mark of a Tong."

Eyes narrow he makes a questioning noise to see if either will explain.

Sherlock glances his way as he does so, "Ancient crime syndicate based in China."

He nods once to show his understanding before refocusing on the young woman. He wants to know if she is going to admit how she knows him.

"Every foot soldier bears the mark, everyone who hauls for them." She pauses, looking away for a moment like she is lost in memory before putting her shoe back on. "I was fifteen. My parents were dead. I had no livelihood; no way of surviving day to day except to work for the bosses."

"Who are they?" Sherlock queries, his tone still gentle.

"They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds' worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. But I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England." She gives a small smile, as if recalling better times, "They gave me a job here. Everything was good; a new life."

"Then he came looking for you."

"Yes," she looks down again, she is clearly upset, yet her scent remains calm even as tears gather in her eyes, "I had hoped after five years maybe they would have forgotten me, but they never really let you leave. A small community like ours – they are never very far away." slow tears fall from her face that she wipes away as she continues to speak. "He came to my flat. He asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen."

Like his potential bondmate, he keeps his tone soft as he inquires, "And you've no idea what it was?"

She gives a small shake of her head, replying, "I refused to help."

He leans forward against the table, eyes locking on her as he softly pushes for information. "So you knew him well when you were living back in China?"

She barely moves her head as she nods, "Oh yes," she replies, looking up she continues, "he's my brother." After taking a deep breath she continues, "Two orphans. We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus, or starve on the streets like beggars."

For a moment he is confused so he inquires, "Why didn't you're pack take care of you?"

She jerks a little, staring at him in shock.

"I'm an alpha, I can smell that you have shifter blood, though the variety I cannot determine. Here however, your pack, your extended family based on your shifting or parents shifting since you smell like human with shifter blood, would have taken you in." he explains, watching the young woman closely.

It takes her a moment to answer but eventually she does so, "My mother was gibbon shifter. Her family disowned her for accepting mate that was human. Said he was not her true mate. She had my brother, who barely able to shift, and me, unable to shift."

He nods, it was a lot like what a jackal pack would do if they thought a person was not properly bonded, though the chances of having a child with a non bondmate were so slim that some said it was impossible. There was only one recorded case of a non-bonded pair having children and that was after both the bondmates for the female had died.

"Since she was able to have you that means either both of her bondmates were dead or your father was her bondmate. There are certain healers that can manipulate a person's bonding, but they are very rare and tend not to mess with it," he gently explains to the younger woman.

She nods slowly, a watery smile appearing on her face for a moment. "That is comforting." Pausing for a moment she continues speaking, "My brother has become their puppet, in the power of the one they call Shan – the Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day I came to work and the cipher was waiting." Giving a small shake of her head she looks at him, her eyes pleading for understanding, "They promised help him learn his shape but never did. Now he's theirs."

Laying a set of pictures down, his tall companion inquires softly, "Can you decipher these?"

She nods, "These are numbers."

"Yes, I know," he replies.

Touching her finger to the picture she murmurs, "Here: the line across the man's eyes – it's the Chinese number one."

He points to another one leaning forward a bit, "And this one is fifteen. But what's the code?"

While the two of them speak of the code he calls out to Daria, _Are you occupied right now with something important?_

_No. Jace has gone to bed, I am merely resting for the moment, we have decided to keep him. Why do you inquire? _She replies, tone melodious in the link.

_I wish to bring two new members in, however I believe one will need to be submerged and mind healed. _He replies, still listening to them speak.

"All the smugglers know it. It's based upon a book," she tells him but cuts off as the lights click out.

_Where are you? I will be there shortly with the Eric. _

He shows her and tells her the name, watching as both the human and the young woman with shifter blood straighten up. Fear fills her scent, while the thrill of the hunt fills his.

_Elspeth, protect this girl until Eric gets here, I will stay with Sherlock. _He tells the multiform he knows must be nearby.

_**Understood.**_

"Soo Lin, I have an offer for you, a new life, a member of the pack I belong to. Do you accept it?" he tells her quickly, his right hand unbuttoning his sleeve as he speaks.

"He's here, Zhi Zhu, he has found me." she murmurs in fear, terror and dread pouring off of her.

"I need an answer now." He tells her, voice full of command.

For a moment she stares at him hard before nodding once. Without waiting for her to make any other sort of response he grabs her right wrist, he had noticed which hand was her dominate earlier, pushing the sleeve up and pressing their wrists together. She gasps at the feeling but he can feel the connection clicking into place.

While he is pulling her within the link, Sherlock has taken off, he calls after him but knows that the human is not listening.

_Where are you? _he queries of Elspeth.

_**The small closet behind you, **_she replies.

Nodding once to himself, he pushes Soo Lin in that direction, telling her, "Come here, get in, get in. You'll be protected."

_**I've got her, **_Elspeth informs him.

Without saying anything else he bolts after his potential bondmate. Using his sense of smell to do so. There is a spurt of gunfire and by time he catches up with Sherlock the attacker seems to have vanished. He hears one more set of gunfire and the two men bolt back to the room where Soo Lin was at. She is still there, staring in shock at the slightly older man who is laying on the ground, barely breathing.

Next to him Daria stands, her slender body glowing lightly as she holds him in place.

"I can just bite him you know," Eric tells her with a dark look. "It'd be quicker, I would rather not be here when the humans swarm."

She flicks him an annoyed glance but nods.

Shifting almost instantaneously, he goes from human with scales to large black cobra with his hood fully extended. Leaning down, he bites the man on the throat before pulling back and reshifting. Without another word he hefts him up, muttering, "Now can we go?"

"Elder, do you want me to take both?" Daria inquires as she glances between the two.

He nods absently, trying to figure out how they are going to make this work.

Eric rolls his eyes at him, commenting, "Hacker here, the camera is going to show them running from the building, and I will see about finding a dead person of her description in one of the morgues to be discovered dead with a flower in their hand."

Chuckling ruefully he remarks, "I forget how scary you can be Tech."

The black cobra shrugs, and turns on his heel walking away with the nearly dead man still thrown over his shoulder. Shaking her head, the viper gently takes the young woman's arm and leads her after the other two.

Sherlock glances at him in mild confusion. "Why?"

"I'll explain later," he tells his tall companion.

He knows Sherlock is dying to question him so he is surprised when he agrees without any fuss.


	19. Codes and Flirting

_By now if the disclaimer is not understood there may be a problem._

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, followed, or otherwise let me know that they were enjoying the story. I still love reviews and they make me oh-so-happy to see._

* * *

Chapter 19_  
John's POV  
_It was not long after the four left that the human police swarmed the building, finding only the two of them there. Dimmock demanded that they go with him to New Scotland Yard and the two of them had readily agreed to do so. By the time they had reached the Yard, he knew that Eric would have already dealt with the missing girl and her now 'dead' body, along with any other details that needed to be work out.

As they were walking in his phone chirped at him, a single word message from Eric, -Done.-

He barely nods, knowing that Eric can probably see them on the city cameras and finishes going into the building. At Dimmock's desk the two of them stand to either side of his desk while he faces away, trying to ignore them. He can smell the frustration and annoyance pouring off of the human but doesn't care as he demands, "What happened to Soo Lin? Was she murdered as well? How many murders is it gonna take before you start believing that this maniac's out there?"

Being ignored, or at least Dimmock is trying to ignore him, the detective inspector turns and walks between them heading for another part of the office. Before the detective inspector can say anything, a detective comes over, showing him a picture of a young Asian woman they had found with a bullet to her head and a black flower in her hand. She had been three blocks away.

Rounding on the detective inspector he snaps, "A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him."

Frustrated he takes a step back just as his dark-haired human steps between him and the other human commenting, "Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers – a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose." Towards the end of his comment his voice lowers as he leans forward.

Glancing towards him with a raised eyebrow the human inquires, "Can you prove that?"

The scent of satisfaction comes from his potential bondmate at the question. Without saying anything further, the taller human turns and leaves. He just shakes his head, slowly walking towards the door. There are times he is rather thankful for having a pack like his, because he knows that his fast moving potential bondmate is not going to out run all of them, particularly not the two multiforms who had volunteered to be his watchers.

He had not gotten far when a text chimes his phone again, -Come to Bart's. Now.- SH

Smiling, he gives a shake of his head, finding a dark spot to shift and shield in before taking a nice run through the city, mostly across roofs where he does not have to worry about running into anyone. Just before he gets to Bart's, he finds another dark alley to return to his form in before continuing on.

He is just reaching the morgue when his dark-haired human comes walking up with the detective inspector close behind. Inside he can hear Molly moving around. Without waiting for the other two, Sherlock, pushes the door open, holding it long enough for them to get in before he heads over to where Molly is standing near the head of the first body. With gloved hands she unzips the top but Sherlock quickly comments on only needing the feet. A scent of confusion comes off of her as she goes to the other end to open it up.

After showing the detective inspector the marks on the both of them, his dark-haired human snidely remarks, "So either these two men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlor or I'm telling the truth."

Sighing the other human shortly inquires, "What do you want?"

Completely serious the two of them stare at each other for a moment before Sherlock replies, "I want every book from Lukis' apartment and Van Coon's."

Confusion mars the detective inspectors scent as he queries, "Their books?"

His tall companion nods once, saying nothing else and the detective sighs, turning to walk away. "I'll have them sent over," he tells him as he leaves.

Sending a quick smile to Molly, though he would hardly call it nice or grateful, his tall human leaves the morgue.

"Thanks," he tells her before turning from his spot by the door and following his tall human out.

As they walk back to their flat, he can feel the questions buzzing in the air between them. Eventually he gives a soft sighing chuckle, commenting, "Ask."

"What were you angry about earlier? Why did you offer her a way out? Did Eric kill the assassin or not? Where did the body come from?" his tall companion rapid-fire inquires, barely pausing for breath. "How did you get to Bart's so fast? What was the presence I felt in the cabbie earlier when the two of us got in?"

When his companion stops, a wary smile curves his lips as he begins to answer, "Pack issue, I will ask for your help on it once the case is done. Everyone deserves a second chance, it was not her fault that the pack she was born to was idiots. They should have raised them, or at least found them homes that would not include working for a crime boss." He pauses for a breath, considering the wording for the next one. "Technically he will have died, Eric is rather brilliant when determining how strong of venom to use. So he will have killed him but kept his body just barely alive so his brain can be jump started and reset for a lack of a better explanation. At this moment though, the assassin is brain dead or close enough to be considered brain dead."

He shrugs pausing again as he considers it. "Jacob and Daria will submerge him into the pack link. If he wakes up still homicidal, they'll put him down humanely. I don't ask where Eric pulls his stunts, I just know it is completely legal, mostly because he likes dealing with problems not causing them." he grins, "You two are similar in that regard, neither of you breaking the major laws and both helping the police in one way or another."

He shakes his head a moment before going on. "Shifter here, I am good at shielding so I can move in my canine form which is faster without being spotted. The presence was my 'watcher' for a lack of a better word. I have a guard pretty much always, didn't we discuss that previously?"

For a moment the dark-haired human considers it before nodding once, "We did, it just did not seem relevant."

Shaking his head again he chuckles. After that the two of them fall silent as they continue walking down the streets towards their flat. They could have caught a cab and it would have been quicker but neither hailed one down. When they were about halfway home he stepped into a side alley and looked around, spotting for cameras. When he found a blind spot, he shifted, leaning his front paws down so he was lower than Sherlock.

_**Would you like a ride?**_ He inquires of his human, offering his shoulder.

The look on the tall human's face was priceless as he went from human to wolf in front of him. There was wonder, awe, curiosity, and something else just below the surface. Slowly, Sherlock reaches out, touching his fur around his neck with a careful touch.

_**You're not going to break me,**_ he tells his hesitant human with a soft chuckle.

Blinking owlishly at him, the tall human scowls after a moment, before softly commenting, "I thought shifters did not allow people to touch them in their second form."

His fingers hand went from just sitting against the fur to actually stroking it, and he swore that if he was a cat he would have been purring. That's it, feel the fur, pet the fur, like the fur, he thinks to himself. Well at least in this form I have better control of my impulses.

_**Depends on the species,**_ he pauses giving a mental shrug, _**most like their family, close friends, or pack touching them plus I am a wolf. I do not know if you realize this but wolves are tactile creatures. We love touch.**_

"Oh…" his voice trails off and his scent changes. Question answered and he suddenly grins, eyeballing his back. "How'd I get on?"

Grinning at the human he drops down to the ground the rest of the way which puts his back even with the middle of Sherlock's leg. _**Climb on like a horse, only tuck your legs backwards so they are against my ribs not behind my front quarters.**_

Nodding, the tall human does so, carefully trying to find a good spot to hold to. "Ummm."

_**The fur directly above my shoulders and right below my neck is a good place to hold.**_ He gives him a moment to take hold, _**ready?**_

After taking a deep breath, the tall human replies, "Yes," a moment after that he is sprinting through the mostly empty streets with his mate firmly on his back. It is a beautiful thing. He loves the feel of Sherlock's fingers deep within his fur, holding on as his lanky body is pressed close against his back and shoulders. Within minutes they are at the roof of their building and he is laying back down so his human get down.

"Amazing," he breaths once his feet are back on the ground. He is pretty certain that the human is not really aware of the fact he is still petting his fur.

He grins as he shifts, reforming into his human self. "Thank you."

As soon as he's human, his tall companions hand drops and he flushes, his scent becoming slightly embarrassed.

"There is no need to feel embarrassed, I have soft fur." He tells his friend before going over to the fire escape and heading down the apartment below.

A few minutes later the two of them are walking into the flat. Neither says anything as they strip of their outer wear and hand it up. Once that is done, he takes his seat in the chair and watches as his dark-haired human puts his coat on the back of the door. As he does so he listens to the tall human speaking.

"Not just a criminal organization; it's a cult. Her brother was corrupted by one of its leaders"

He nods once, tilting his head as he watches him. "Soo Lin said the name."

"Yes, Shan," the tall human softly states as he straightens his suit, "General Shan."

"We're still no closer to finding them," he comments.

"Wrong!" comes the sharp responds before the dark-haired human softens his voice back up, looking over at him, "We've got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces."

He nods once and waits for Sherlock to explain. What pieces do they have that he is missing?

His excitement shows in his motions as he asks, "Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?" as he speaks, his hands never stop moving.

Comprehension hits as he replies, "She worked at the museum." Of course, she would understand how to gage rare items prices, particularly old rare items.

"Exactly," his companion states in satisfaction.

"An expert in antiquities," he continues, understanding perfectly well now.

Tucking his hands into his pockets the tall human continues, "Valuable antiquities, John. Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. China's home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao's revolution."

As he remarks, "And the Black Lotus is selling them," a thoughtful look crosses the humans face and he turns to stare at his computer.

The next thing he knows, Sherlock is across the room at the desk and laptop going through Crispians' website of recent auctions and looking over the various items that have come from the Orient in recent months for sale. The two of them discuss the dates and which of the two dead men where there at the time for each. Figuring out who is who. As he stands there leaning over the back of the chair as he watches the computer screen, he cannot help but take a gentle sniff of the air. He is rather fond of his potential bondmates scent. It reminds him of a fresh breeze and old books. Currently it is filled with excitement and frustration.

Just as their discussion is finishing up Mrs. Hudson comes up the steps and knocks at the door before entering, "Ooh-ohh," she calls in warning before opening the door the rest of the way, "Sorry. Are we collecting for charity, Sherlock?"

Turning to look at her both of them are confused for a moment before it is recalled that they asked for both dead men's books.

"A young man's outside with crates of books." She tells them when she sees their blank expressions.

Smiling, Sherlock gets to his feet and goes down to let them in. The next few minutes make his nerves stand on edge as two human police officers bring several crates of books into their flat, placing them into two separate piles based on who they belong to. One quick discussion later, and his tall companion had explained how it works. Groaning internally, he picks a pile and mutters, "Okay, right. Well, this shouldn't take too long, should it?"

As he takes a seat at the desk with a pile of books Dimmock comes walking up with an evidence bag in his hand.

"We found these, at the museum." The detective inspector shows it to him, asking, "Is this your writing?"

He nods once, taking the bag and replying, "Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us. Ta."

Soo Lin… his mind mutters, something on the edge of his awareness.

"Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?" the detective inspector inquires as he watches the dark-haired human sort through his box.

"Some silence right now would be marvelous," the dark-haired man replies absently as he continues going through books.

Dimmock glances over at him, a questioning look on his face as he does so. He gives a small, apologetic shake of his head before the younger man nods and leaves.

Over at his pile, Sherlock is going through the books carefully but getting frustrated according to his scent. They spend probably three hours sorting before it clicks, Soo Lin is perfectly alive and with Daria. Glancing at his watch he sighs because of how early it is, but grabs his phone to make a quick call.

She picks up on the second ring, "Yes, Elder? Is something wrong it's a bit early, or late depending on how you view it."

"Daria, can you wake Soo Lin up and ask her which book is needed for the code, we want to track down the General before there are any more deaths." He answers her, as he speaks, Sherlock stops looking through the books and comes over to where he is seated to wait somewhat impatiently.

He can just about hear the sigh as the viper replies, "Give me a minute." A soft click tells him that she has set the phone on the table. A few minutes later she returns to it, informing him, "London A-Z, now get some rest would you?"

"G'night Daria, thank you," he thanks the irate viper as he hangs up and tells the hovering tall human. "I am going up to bed for a bit."

However the tall human doesn't seem to hear him as he searches through the piles until he comes up with the right book.

oOo

When he gets up in the morning to get ready for work he can still hear his flatmate in the living room writing. Shaking his head, he sighs and dresses quickly. Going into the kitchen he makes himself and his companion some fresh tea, knowing that while he won't eat, there is always a chance that he would sip at something to drink.

"Here," he hands the taller man his cup, gently taking the book away. "Allow your mind to finish catching up. I am sure you are close to done."

The dark-haired human gives him a dirty look but accepts the tea without argument, taking a slow sip. "It's a miss print," he mutters, "that has to be the reason the code is not work. All I have to do is find the other copy that is around here somewhere…" he trails off, setting the cup down and looking around the room.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," he informs him.

He nods, barely paying attention and makes a noise of understanding.

Chuckling and shaking his head, he heads to the surgery to begin his day. The first several patients are boring simple things that can be easily dealt with. By the time lunch hits, his focus is just about gone and he starts to get tired. So over lunch he takes a brief nap in his office. He is awoken from his nap when Sarah knocks at the door, but pretends to still be asleep because he does not want to deal with her right now. After his lunch he finishes up his patients lists before putting his coat on to leave.

As he heads to the door, she waylays him, placing a gentle, if annoying hand on his arm as she asks, "Everything alright?"

He nods, carefully stepping back away, "Yes, sorry, I had a bit of a late one, there were no emergencies during lunch where there?"

She gives a small shake of her head, "Oh, right," she murmurs before answering his question, "no, there were no emergencies."

He nods, giving a small incline towards her before attempting to leave again, she walks beside him, inquiring, "So, um, what were you doing to keep you up so late?"

He can smell the attraction off of her and it is giving him a bit of a headache. "Uh, I was, er, attending a sort of book event."

Flustered she remarks questioningly, "Oh. Oh, she likes books, does she, your ... your girlfriend?"

"Mmm? No, it wasn't a date." He mutters wistfully.

"Good," she quickly comments before looking away and blushing as she tries to correct herself, "I mean umm…" her voice trails off.

Sighing, he stops and looks at her with what he hopes is a gentle smile before explaining. "My file, you saw where it said shifter?"

She nods once, looking up at him slowly and waiting for him to continue.

He nods, "Okay. Well shifters have bondmates, and as nice of a person as you are, you're not my bondmate. It would be unfair to even consider doing anything because nothing would ever come of it."

"Oh," she murmurs, her scent edging with sadness.

He nods one more time, patting her shoulder before walking away and leaving her there. He is well aware of when she finally turns and goes back into the clinic.

When he gets back to the flat, Sherlock is playing his violin by the window, a mellow expression on his face. Going upstairs he changes out of his work clothes and into some more comfortable clothing before coming back downstairs. Upon entering the kitchen to make tea, his flatmate stops playing and walks over to him, grabbing a piece of paper off the desk as he does so.

"I figured it out John," the tall human tells him excitedly.

Smiling indulgently he inquires, "And what is it?"

"A jade dragon pin worth nine million pounds." His excitement is growing, along with the pleasure of having figured it out.

He blinks up at him, muttering, "Really?"

"Yes," there is a pause, "We need to go out tonight."

He smiles, nodding once, "Alright, where to?"

"The Yellow Dragon Circus."

He nods, going and changing into his preferred style of clothes for when he shifts. While he likes jeans, they can be a bit difficult when going between forms. Shortly after that he is back in the living room, well fitted black slacks and a button down blue and white shirt with his jacket over top. "Ready."

His companion looks at him funny asking, "Why did you change again?"

He smiles, "I foresee the need for easy shifting clothes and jeans are not as simple to work with."

"Oh." A blush stains his cheeks for a moment before he gives a quick shake of his head before retreating into his bedroom.

All he can do is smile at the now shut door because he had caught just the smalls scent of attraction from the taller man. Things were definitely looking up.


	20. Shan

_Thank you to all my lovely reviewers._

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_Chapter 20  
__John's POV  
_Once he has gotten past the tiny bit of attraction he had smelled from the human, he digs his phone out to text the only cobra in their pack.

-Were you able to discover who and what was following yesterday with a camera?-JW

-Please. Did you just ask that without checking your email?- Tech

Grinning, he walks over to his laptop, and loads it up, opening his email and carefully reading the information included. That woman was listed as Wu Lein, the announcer for the circus that they were going to be going to in a couple of hours. She was here on a special visa along with twelve other members of staff. Each of the other members was also here on special visa as well. Though according to the report he was looking at these visas were completely fake.

As far as he could discover, there was only two shifters in their group. Both are male, both subservient to Wu Lein.

Wu Lein had several different names. Though the most dominate one past her name is Shan. If they could catch her they could rid the world of a great many problems according to what he can see in the reports. She often arranged for accidents to happen to people with gifted children so that she could get her hands on the children. Train them to be whatever it is she thought that they should be without the family able to stop her. Thus she had highly loyal people who were willing to do whatever she wanted because they thought that she had saved them.

Smiling to himself he heads into the kitchen to make himself something to snack on, using the gifts besides his shifting required energy and that was something that he figured he would need tonight. If he thought it would do any good he would try and get his human to eat but he had learned early on that he was not fond of eating any more than he absolutely had to in order to survive.

Once his small meal was done he takes it to the living room and his armchair out there. He doesn't even want to get anywhere near that table with food or his sense of smell for that matter. By the time he is done with his sandwich and tea he has come up with a plan. Since it would be night time when they did this little trip it would work best to use the mouse, two owls, and perhaps the cat multiform as his back up. The more of them that could be captured the better there chances would be of ending this particular ring.

Using his phone, he quickly sends off messages to those he had selected.

-Yana, can you help do round up duty tonight?- JW

-Of course, when and where?- Yana

-Feel like bashing some heads in?- JW

-When don't I?-OER

-Care to do some small sized snooping?- JW

-I'm a mouse of course I do small sized snooping.- Mouse

_You on guard duty tonight? _He inquires of Elspeth, the only one without a mobile phone.

_Indeed, why are we going to do something interesting and fun? _She replies, eagerness he had forgotten that she had coursing through the link. _About the only time I take off is the time that the Beta and Iota insist I must. Your potential bondmate is an interesting creature and I hope that when I discover mine they are just as interesting. _

He sends the impression of a nod, responding, _Alright, I won't need to give you directions then will I? _

_Nope. _Comes her pleasant answer just before the link breaks away.

To the other three he sends the same text message, -Animal forms until time to attack. The Yellow Dragon Circus. Shield carefully, there is at least one shifter in their group and possibly some Gifted.-JW

-Elder.- OER

-Alright Elder.- Yana

-Got it Captian.- Mouse

When the dark-haired human finally immerges from his room, his scent subdued he explains the plan to him. Right before he goes to call and arrange for tickets there is a knock at the door, a moment before he hears it open and close downstairs. Shortly after Maria is standing at the door to their flat's living room.

"Hello alpha, alpha-second, I have come to request to be included when hunting tonight. I spent all yesterday tracking the lady so I would like to see what happens to her." The slender multiform tells him as she looks between two members of the pack.

He smiles at her, nodding once, and then calls for three tickets. Since he never made it to the bank about his card and forgot to have Eric fix it he uses the card that Sherlock had lent him the day before. Once that was done he went about making tea which made the multiform highly nervous according to her scent. Apparently the idea of an alpha cooking surprised her.

"Calm down, I like tea and I have the best luck getting him to drink compared to others that have tried." He murmurs to her as he passes hers to her. She nods, and he moves on to give his dark-haired human his. Absently he takes it and sips at it while typing at the computer.

* * *

When they first arrived at the circus he glances around thinking, this isn't a circus it's a showroom. Aloud he mutters so that both his companions can hear him, "This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is," he glances around with distaste, "art."

Maria chuckles from where she is at just a little behind him while Sherlock gives her a funny look.

The three of them watch the show for a bit before he feels his dark-haired companion slip off and internally sighs. When Maria goes to follow him, he grabs her wrist, stopping her.

_Elspeth is with him, she tends not to let him out of her sight._ He tells the concerned multiform as he listens for the alert.

She nods once but he can still feel the tension in her. Part of him understands it is a natural reaction, she was raised by jackals prior to her presenting as a multiform rather than a jackal. Jackals tend to be highly protective of their alpha family, but it does not stop him from being frustrated by it at the same time.

As the show concludes most the people leave and he hears Elspeth's silent warning call.

In an instant the other three pack members are there and the five of them quickly knock out most of the circus staff quickly while Mouse makes sure that they cannot go anywhere. Moments later his dark haired human is grumbling as he rejoins him, apparently the ring leader and her main assistant had gotten away. One quick message to Dimmock later and the three are ready to leave. The other three will stay until the authorities get there to deal with the gang members.

* * *

Before they head to the flat the three of them stop at the New Scotland Yard in order to make sure that Dimmock had sent a team since he had not heard from the three that a team had arrived.

"I sent a couple of cars and what did I get? Ten people tied up with no idea how they ended up in that situation and all of them babbling in Chinese." Dimmock snaps as he storms into an office.

"If you check each of their feet I will bet they are marked with the tattoo of the Tong." His dark-haired human tells the other human in a mild tone for him.

Sighing he states, "Lukis and Van Coon were part of a-a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something when they were in China; something valuable."

"These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back." His tall companion picks up where he left off.

Looking completely serious and smelling frustrated the detective inspector demands, "Get what back?"

His dark-haired human is debating about telling him or not, eventually he mutters, "A rare and old pin."

"What? All of this for a pin?" the disbelieving detective inspector queries, eyes flickering between the three of them, after a moment he continues, "Mr. Holmes," he mutters as he sits down, "I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something. I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have _something_ to show for it – other than a massive bill for overtime and a few foreigners."

Sherlock smiles at him, answering, "I am sure all of those foreigners are on Interpol's list at least."

Sighing the detective inspector drops his head onto his arms and just shakes his head.

* * *

They had just left New Scotland Yard when something rather frustrating happened. One minute the three of them were walking, the next Maria and him were waking up tied to a chair somewhere dark. On the chair next to him Maria is seething. He can just see the anger radiating off of her, but both these people are human, thus she knows it is against their laws to shift in front of them.

Wu Lein is speaking as his mind clears from the fog but he is not listening until she calls him by his potential bondmates name.

Frowning, he mutters, "I'm not Sherlock Holmes," aloud as he ask Elspeth telepathically, _is Sherlock alright?_

_**He is seeking you now Elder, as soon as he picked himself off of the steps something seemed to click for him. So now he is coming after you. He stopped at the flat long enough to grab your handgun and I was unsure whether to stop him or not. **_The multiform cat replies.

Giving him a false smile she remarks, "Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." Reaching inside his jacket, she pulls out his wallet. As she pulls out each item with his dark-haired humans name on it she makes a comment, "Debit card, name of S. Holmes."

He nods once, "Yes; that's not actually mine. He lent that to me."

Ignoring him, she holds up her second item of 'proof', "A check for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

Rolling is eyes, he mutters, "Yeah, he gave me that to look after."

Then she lifts the tickets, "Tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes."

"Yes, okay," he grumbles, "I realize what this looks like, but I'm not him."

She looks at him disbelieving, "If you are not him, what happened to my assassin that I sent to deal with you and vanished?"

A rather dark smile curves his lips, "Now that's an interesting question, about as interesting as the answer."

She blinks at him, pulling a pistol she points it at him, "I am Shan," she announces, "Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?"

"That your lousy at your job?" he replies not really thinking about it. He had already determined he could break the ropes by doing a partial shift, he is just waiting to see how stupid she really is. He can smell the fact that there are no bullets in the gun because of the lack of fresh gun powder. Only two of the men here is loyal, the other four that he can see are here for the money, but that doesn't make them innocent in all this.

She pulls the trigger and his smile just curves his lips. "It tells you that they're not really trying." Its about then that she realizes that he is smiling and a confused look crosses her face. "Why are you smiling?" she demands.

He shrugs his shoulders a little replying, "You really should have done your homework." He informs her just before he focuses on only partially shifting. A moment later he is getting to his feet faster than the humans can move, still speaking, "because had you done your homework you would have realized that Sherlock Holmes' partner is a man. That Sherlock Holmes is taller than his partner. And that the partner is ex-military." The last is said just as he vanishes from sight, his claws slashing through Maria's bindings.

The old woman seems to be shocked but that doesn't bother him as he moves from one henchmen to the next, snapping their necks and letting them fall to the ground. Two of the them were taller, so he had to bring them to his height first with a well placed kick. Unfortunately, it requires him to unshield when he does break their necks so she has a moment where she can see him. Each time she tries to aim at him with the gun and fails because he vanishes again. Eventually, she is the last one standing and turns the gun that she had loaded while he dealt with the hired thugs on Maria.

_Can you shield? _He inquires as he watches the older woman, chances are he can get to her before she fires but he does not like the risk to his packmate.

_No. I am a female, females have no need for shielding among the jackals. _She replies, her eyes wide as she stares at the gun pointed at her.

"I don't believe you," she tells him, "who else could be resourceful enough to do what you just did?"

He just smiles, he can feel both Sherlock and Elspeth approaching. _Make noise Elspeth, _he directs the multiform.

_**Alrighty,**_ she replies right before a barrel gets knocked over, followed another a second in a different part of the tunnel.

As soon as Shan's attention was pulled to the barrel, he lunged forward, wrapping his forearm around her neck and pulling up hard. An audible crack could be heard as her neck snapped and he dropped her to the ground. He probably should have handed her over to the police but that was not what an alpha protecting their pack does.

"You alright?" he asks Maria, watching her.

She nods, "I'm an empath, so all the violence, well its hard to deal with."

He nods once, turning to look at Sherlock who is staring at him. His scent is full of surprise. He had not expected that.


	21. Wolf Pack Devon

_**Warning:** _mention of abuse against a child, lots of violence, and a bit of cruelty.

I would also like to thank the new readers and those who have recently added me to the Follow or Favorites list for this story, that's as good as reviews, though I still like them too. Thank you to my lovely reviewers as well.

* * *

_Chapter 21  
__John's POV  
_The trip back to the flat was silent. Apparently he had shocked his human flatmate because after they had left the crime scene, after they had dealt with Dimmock he hadn't said a word. Even his path within the pack link was silent. It was just reaching dawn when he pushed open the door to the flat and froze, a growl low in his throat. There should not be people in their flat and he can smell several.

Before he could do anything else Jacob appears at the top of the steps, the expression on his face tense as he greets them, "Elder, Elder-second, there is a situation that needs dealt with. I apologize for the intrusion but thought it would be best as Senior."

Jacob rarely referred to him by any of his titles, accepting long before that he preferred to go by his first name instead. So the fact that he used both of their titles was concerning greatly. Focusing on the pack he can hear the anger from most of the members but something was off. Carefully he went through each member of the pack, starting with the military pack and working his way towards the wolf pack, however when he got to Jace's link it seemed to be missing, not broken but dampened. Like someone was trying to block it.

Once in the flat he realized that the people he smelled were mostly the military pack, plus two others that he did not know. The first stranger was a black cobra related to Eric according to the scent, the second a hawk who was keeping away from everyone else.

Upon his entry to the living room Daria was directly in front of him within seconds.

"Those creatures took my hatchling," she told him, her normally melodious voice cold with venom. "They attacked my bondmate and stole my hatchling. I would have already gone after them but the falcon convinced me that was a bad idea."

Focusing on soothing those in the room, he intentionally turns his scent to calming and the effect is immediate. Once that is done he moves to stand in the middle of the room like they would have done on a mission and the others gather around. Before anyone of the pack has a chance to speak the hawk approaches and bows low.

"Elite Alpha John Watson, M.D., Captain in Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers," the hawk states, using each of his titles, "On behalf of the Bainburn Coop I, Alexander Bainburn, Delta of the Bainburn Coop request an audience."

Sighing, he nods once, his attention mostly on the hawk, but also on the tall human who had moved over to his spot by the window and was watching everything with thoughtful look in his eyes.

Still with his head inclined even after he straightens up he speaks, "Elite Alpha, the Bainburn Coop requests your assistance with the Wolf Pack Devon. They have been encroaching on our territory, hunting Hawks, and disrupting the balance. I am to await your answer." Again the hawk bows, though not as low this time and holds his placing.

I really hate the old ways, he thinks as he narrows his eyes at the hawk. "Tell your Elder that the Wolf Pack Devon will not be a problem by the upcoming full moon Delta Alander Bainburn." He informs the younger man, using his title as such a situation requires.

"You have our thanks Elite Alpha, I will relay the message." The hawk replies, straightening up before inclining his head to Sherlock, Jacob, and Eric and leaving.

Snorting a little he reaches with his mind for the Eldest Alpha's and the council. _Under the old ways I declare a blood hunt on Wolf Pack Devon for assaulting a member of my pack, kidnapping a member of my pack, intentionally harming a wolf pup, disregarding the peace treaty with the Hawk Coops, and interfering in my territory._

He does not wait for a response before telling his pack members, "We will hunt them like we would an enemy pack, seek to disarm and disable, not kill. Eric and Daria, that means no deadly venoms or squeezing." He waits until both have confirmed the order before continuing, "Daria, share the location of where your pup is then everyone divide into your teams and begin."

She nods, focusing on the link and sharing the information on the common path that their group had developed in order to not be over heard by others.

Once the information has been spread amongst them, he walks over to Eric and gives him a questioning look, glancing towards the younger black cobra.

"Elite Elder Wolf John Watson, I present Elite Black Cobra Aidan Jefferson, currently of the Corbin Den." Eric's voice is low as he says the introductions. "I have asked him to run the computers during this situation."

One blonde eyebrow arched at this, the cobra never allowed anyone near his computers so that was rather unusual. Taking a quick sniff of the air he discovered that the smell was not sibling or cousin like, but parent to child like. So the younger man was his son, interesting.

"Will it be a problem if I stay here to do so?" Aiden's voice is low, like Eric's, its tones reflecting his American upbringing.

He smiles at the younger man, answering, "You can stay here." Then turning his attention back to the rest and stating, "Let's move out."

The majority of them head out each shifting once they are out the front door and their forms are shielded. Sherlock watches all of it with the same thoughtful expression.

Giving a slight smile to his potential bondmate he queries, "Care for some potential danger?"

His dark-haired human smiles and nods once, heading downstairs to wait outside. When he gets there, John can smell his surprise that the others seemed to have vanished. Shifting and shielding, he lowers his larger body down so the human can get on before he is sprinting through the city, his mind following the trace that Daria had set up for each of the military pack to follow. Within minutes he had travelled several miles and not much longer he was outside of the city and still travelling. When he finally reached where they were going he checked in with every group not surprised to find that they had trapped the enemy pack within an abandoned barn.

_Aidan says that the elders are coming, I sent directions._ He hears Eric comment.

_**My thanks Tech.**_ He replies stopping and lowering himself so Sherlock can hop off before he returns to his human form. Walking with purpose into the barn, he is unsurprised to see that his small group had cornered over twenty of them -in both human and wolf form- without any sort of problems. "I am addressing the supposed alpha of this pack. You will step forward now to address the charges brought against you."

One of the ones in wolf changes into a naked human and glares at him, demanding, "Who the hell do you think you are?"

He smiles tightly at the other wolf, but there is nothing nice about his smile. Anyone in his team would tell you that it was a dangerous smile that meant trouble for whoever he was dealing with. "I am Elite Alpha Wolf John Watson, M.D., Captain in Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, and under the old ways I find you in violation of the Pack Laws. You have the choice to submit to punishment or be executed."

The other man stares at him in disbelief, "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"He is an Elite Alpha Wolf who will eventually take a place on the council. If he has pasted judgment on you, then the council will uphold it." A soft, posh woman's voice replies from behind them.

He just about feels his dark-haired human tense up as he smells the three highest ranking alphas enter the building. He knows that the other three alphas would have pack members with them but they had been left outside as a show of respect for him.

The other alpha's eyes got wide as he watched the leaders of their kind fan out watching him. Snarling the alpha lunged forward like he was going to attack him but he never had a chance. Before he had even moved two feet Eric had lashed his long black tail out, swiping the legs out from under the man with an easy that scared the enemy pack.

"You did say the only thing I was not to do was sink my fangs into him or kill him, so a little humiliation while he makes up his mind how he wants to die shouldn't matter." The cobra comments in an even, bored tone however he can hear the underlying edge to it.

He inclines his head at the cobra, "Indeed, however give him a chance to hang himself would you?" switching his attention back to the enemy alpha he remarks, "I want my missing pack member to start with, and whoever was foolish enough to touch him and his bond father should start groveling."

Normally he was not a mean person, he was direct, he would kill, but he did not torment. This man however had allowed and encouraged members of his pack to harm a pup who had done nothing more than be born a mixed breed. Then they had foolishly taken that same pup from his new family in a rather foolish method. Justice would allow for a bit of revenge this time.

"He's nothing but a worthless whelp, can't even shift properly, he deserves anything that piece of trash got. Besides he's not yours. He is packless, not even worth being called an omega." The alpha snarls as he gets to his feet.

Apparently it annoys Eric because that long tail slashes out again, this time snapping hard against the man's back but still knocking him to the ground. "Jace. Presented before his Elder now." The cobra hissed, his torso still mostly human except he had allowed his hood emerge and his legs to shift into a massive black tail.

The alpha looked between him and Eric, fear, rage, and disbelief heavily infusing his scent. "No. I demand an alpha's challenge if you want the whelp."

His smile curves into a smirk as he waves the cobra back. Eric moves, retaining his mixed form and watching closely while he steps forward unbuttoning his shirt. "I don't want your blood on this shirt, it's one of my favorites." He states conversationally as he strips it off and tosses it to the side. Cyanne catches without thinking about it and he continues to stalk forward."You might want to change soon, I plan to seek justice for every single mark on Jace. Past and present." He informs the other wolf conversationally. To Daria he comments, "Retrieve your pup and tell me what damage has been done."

She does so without comment, Nathan at her left and Eric to her right. While she does that he prowls around the edge of the circle that had formed by the enemy pack and his pack. He is studying the various members of this pack, his sense of smell telling him which ones need to be dealt with and which ones might be salvageable. He feels the anger before he sees the young man. But it is enough that he spins, slamming his fist into the other alpha's jaw before he has had a chance to react.

_Skin that creature. _He hears Daria snarl from within her mind as she focuses her attention on healing Jace once more.

Linking in, he ignores the other alpha as he studies the damage done. Pretty close all the same damage as the first time then. That really was not a good idea on their part. Carefully using Daria's link to him he sought out the names and face of each of them responsible, they would each be dead before this was done.

Spinning back to face the other alpha his eyes harden as he speaks. "You are guilty of the physical abduction of a non-connected pack member. You are guilty of the injury of a non-connected pack member. You are guilty of pup abuse in the highest order. You are guilty of promoting the abuse of said pup in the highest order. Your sentence for such is death. There will be no chance for you to escape." He pauses, using telepathy to signal to his three wolves who else is guilty and they make sure to separate them from their pack in a rather violent manner.

Apparently being told he was going to die was a trigger for the other wolf, because he shifted and lunged towards him, snarling and growling as the enemy wolf did so. Eyes narrow he doesn't bother shifting, instead he watches carefully and times it so that he can use a burst of speed to snap the other wolf's leg with a well placed strike. He falls to the ground yelping before struggling back to his feet to try attacking again even though it is futile. This time he aims for the back leg of the opposite side and smiles in grim satisfaction as he goes down and cannot get back up. With an ease born of being a soldier for more than half his adult life he walks over to where the other wolf lays and reaches down, grabbing the side of his head and twisting hard once. He had considered drawing it out but that was not his nature.

For those who were just as guilty he turned to face them.

"I'll give you the choice, honorable death by submitting to the pup's bond mother, or unhonorable death by having your neck snapped like a twig."

Those that had been responsible for the damage done to Jace look at each other than at their dead alpha lying on the ground. All but two of them, go down on their knees and submit. Those other two growl and swear that there is nothing wrong with their treatment of Jace. Trace raises and eyebrow in his direction and he nods once as he retrieves his shirt from Cyanne. Turning he watches as the two wolf brothers in his military pack snap the necks on those responsible without giving them a chance to fight.

"To the rest of you. You will be submerged into the Watson pack. Be thankful for that. By the old laws all of you could be executed for your part in this." Turning to Jacob he nods once and then heads over to where the council member alpha's stand.

"That was mildly calm John," Amara Wardi, the only female elder and only female elite wolf in England, comments.

He shrugs, replying, "I'm not him, I get little satisfaction out of harming others. You know I was an iota before I was an alpha."

She nods and looks over at where Daria is kneeling with Jace firmly in her embrace. He also shifts positioning to look over at the boy and is mildly surprised to see that he is leaning towards Eric more than Daria.

The iota's soft voice can be heard as she directs the cobra, "Guard him, I need to deal with them."

To most watching, the fact the cobra inclined his head once and settled his long tail carefully around Jace would be a surprise in and of itself. Particularly when Jace leans into that tail, curling up like the pup he is, and passing out from the shock of it all.

Daria's justice could be considered cruel but it is something he approves of. She traps those who had submitted to her punishment within their minds to feel every instant of pain that they had caused Jace. They would either die still trapped within their minds or they would learn to feel remorse and true guilt over their actions which would free them from their minds. It meant that they would need constant care until one of the two reactions occurred.

"We shall adjourn." He announces.

Jacob nods once sharply before collecting the three wolves and Hyder, they will collect up all of the new pack members to be dealt with.

Eric carefully leans down and scoops Jace up in his arms before returning to the partial form that he prefers. To either side of him is Daria and Nathan. Daria is the one who informs him that they are retreating to Eric's house before they bow out and leave, the two owls staying close with them to protect the injured pup.

Alpha Layard is the first to comment from the council as the scene breaks apart, "John, I forgot how deadly you can be at times. I trust that that the pup will be alright?"

He nods, "Indeed, his bond mother is the pack iota and she is rather skilled."

The elder wolf nods once, smiling, "That is good."

Amara pipes up with, "So who is the human who smells of pack and watches with keen eyes?" her voice is full of curiosity.

He smiles at her, accepting the change in topic, motioning Sherlock over he does the introductions. "Eldest Alpha Edward Layard, Elder Alpha Amara Wardi, and Elder Alpha Thomas Kinlochard this is the Watson Pack Alpha-second Sherlock Holmes."

Layard flicks a glance to him before stepping forward to shake his dark-haired human's hand, "Welcome to the packs, Alpha-second Holmes, you wouldn't happen to be related to Mycroft would you?"

Sherlock nods once glancing at him before answering, "My older brother."

The older gentlemen smiles, "He does not know your pack, does he?"

He shakes his head, "No, I haven't said anything to him about it, John said that only pack members were supposed to know and I didn't see any pack marks on him the last time I saw him."

Layard nods again, chuckling, "Very true, very true indeed."

Amara steps up to the human giving him a brief hug before stepping back, "Be welcome to the packs Sherlock, may you always run true."

He had tensed up when she touched him until remembering that wolves are a very tactile group. Instead he forced himself to relax, accepting the hug.

She chuckles a low sound that makes his human blush as she comments, "Your more cat like I shall assume and prefer not to be touched by most."

Nodding a bit, he can smell that Sherlock feels a bit out of his depth.

The third man smiles at Sherlock, offering a hand, "Good to meet you, Alpha-second Sherlock, welcome to the packs, you joined one of the best."

With the introductions out of the way the council members also leave.

Turning to Sherlock he smiles slightly, "Ready to go home?"

His human nods once, and when they step outside it is full daylight.


	22. Considerations

_AN: Thank you to all the new reviewers, followers, favorites, and other wise commenting folks, you make my day_

* * *

_Chapter 22  
Sherlock's POV  
_When they left the falling apart barn he was surprised at how little time had passed from when John had snapped Shan's neck like it was nothing to now. According to his internal clock which was nearly never wrong it had been two hours and thirty-nine minutes. In that time he had seen his mild mannered, yes deadly but rarely a killer, flatmate snap the neck of one human and one wolf, order the death of two more, and allow another nine to be driven insane. All without ever raising his voice, most in a conversational tone that bordered on ice.

Through it all he had remained completely quiet. Not because he had to but because he was in overload and knew it yet he wouldn't have changed a moment of it. Now, after his introductions to the council which his mind supplied him with as an important detail, according to Cyanne that finalized his place as alpha-second and all that it entitled. He was catching up with everything in that lightning like manner that his mind forever worked on.

The elders, two of them were technically nobles, blue bloods in the human society. The other was a member of the British government, just a 'minor' person, like his brother, which meant he was actually very important. It had been the female who spoke, she wasn't the highest ranking, yet she was their voice. That said something, yet he could not figure out what it was it said.

John shifts almost as soon as they are outside and he approaches him slowly, studying everything he can. When he had first watched the difference between John and the wolf he had fought the night of the full moon he had thought that maybe the other wolf was on the small side, but now after seeing so many other wolves he realized that that wolf had been regular size. It was John who was the unusual size. He was massive compared to the other wolves, which was funny because his human form was fairly compact and small.

Another difference he notices is coloring. None of the other wolves have his dirty golden coloring. They are all plain browns and blacks, some grays. Not his John however, his wolf was a beautiful dirty gold color like tarnished brass. On his left front shoulder the fur is a different color, lighter in the star burst pattern and that's when he realizes it must correlate to the gunshot wound in his human form. Then there are his eyes, they are deep, dark blue, almost gray in their tone yet unlike any other set of eyes he had seen on any of the other wolves. The only one even remotely close is that female wolf from the council.

Hesitantly, he reaches his right hand out to touch John's fur but he is slightly worried how the wolf will react. He's surprised to hear him speaking to him.

_**Go ahead, you're the alpha-second, it is more than acceptable for you to touch my fur.**_ His John tells him as he stands there watching.

Curiously he runs his hand down his side, then brushes upwards to see if the fur is two layered like it is in normal wolves. Gaining a bit more confidence he carefully rubs as far down his body as he can without moving before bringing his hands back up. He is considering doing more when John speaks again.

_**Its been more than twenty-four hours since my last good sleep and I still have to get us home, perhaps you could do that when I am more awake?**_

He blushes, nodding once. As the wolf lowers himself down, he carefully climbs onto his back and tries to figure out why he is blushing. He had done that a lot in the last few days but he cannot figure out exactly what it was that was causing it. He wasn't embarrassed by anything really. He was a little self conscious for not having all the information, but that was something he planned on correcting as soon as possible.

His mind whirls as John gets to his feet and takes off at an easy loupe. As they are running he inquires, "Why was it the female wolf from the council who spoke when you said that Layard was the one in charge?"

_**Technically he is the one in charge, according to the ranking of who has been an elder alpha the longest. However, by the old laws which are mostly still practiced, she as an elite outranks every other member on the council since none of them are elites.**_ John replies then continues to explain, _**elites come from the oldest bloodlines. You could say they are the royalty or nobles of the shifters. An elites bloodline always comes from one of the founding families, one of the first shifters. It is also common for elites to start or assume control of the pack or family they are born to. A pack like ours with six different elites is very rare. That none of us have problems over who is alpha is also rare. But then, I am not surprised to the other could be alphas are Jacob, the beta, and Eric, the nu, neither of which desires being at the head of their own pack. **_

"Oh," he murmurs considering the new information. That meant even though John was not part of the council he out ranked all of them but the female. That was…enlightening.

The rest of the ride goes smoothly and John once again uses their roof as his landing place to let him off and return to his human form. However he seems to sway from the tiredness that he had mentioned.

"Come on, let's go let Aiden get going." John mutters as he turns back to a human.

The two of them head down the fire escape and in through John bedroom window. When they enter the flat, he takes a close look at the young man lounging in John's chair the exact same way the other cobra does and he studies him for a minute trying to read him. The only thing he can really get is the black cobra elite from the neck markings, American from the south-west from his accent, brought up in a position of authority but has no authority according to his movements, has at least two siblings, well educated, and does not get along with his mother. He is sure there is more to him than that but it is not showing right now.

"How are you related to Eric?" he demands of the younger man as he gets to his feet, rising with the same grace as the other cobra.

The young man inclines his dark head, a moment respectively before replying, "Elder-second, Eric is my sire."

His eyes narrow as he considers it. Sire the shifter word for father, used in reference to bondmate male parent.

The younger man smiles, stating, "My granddame on his side was an eastern coral snake from the States, she attended a family reunion with her youngest son in tow. That son presented a bondmate mark on the second day of the reunion to a very distant barely related cousin. However he was a black cobra, a rare breed that most other types of cobras and snakes try to avoid. Now neither of my parents likes the opposite gender, so they were able to come to a deal. My dame would produce a child for both families, one black cobra for his and one eastern coral snake for hers. I have two older sisters, the first to attempts, then there is me. Not long after my birth the bond between them was severed using the old gifts." He shrugs, "I was raised by my dame in a den that distrusts any black cobra."

"But he's not old enough to have a teenage son!" he bursts out, shocked, because this boy is clearly in his late teens and he would swear that was about the same age range as Eric.

From the kitchen he can hear John chuckling as he comes back into the room. "A gift of the elite, we do not age much unless we have to spend energy on healing. Eric may be one of the youngest members of the military pack but he is still older than he appears. You would say he's in his teens, maybe his early twenties and you would be wrong. Eric's thirty-three or thirty-four."

The teenage cobra nods once, "Yep, he was fifteen when he got my dame pregnant with me. I'm eighteen." Slightly bowing first to John then to him, the young man murmurs, "Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to head to his house for some rest."

Without waiting for an answer he closes his laptop up and leaves.

After passing him a cup of tea, the shorter man takes his normal spot in his chair, rubbing back against it. Sipping at it he suggests, "How about we go fill Sebastian in on what happened so you can close out the case and get paid, then we can come back and rest?"

He nods and once they are done with their tea he hails them a cabbie, having it take them to the bank where he talks with Van coon's PA while John collects there pay and reports on the situation at hand. Almost everyone in the room jumps when he tells her about the jade pin she is wearing and how much it is actually worth. Afterwards they stop for Chinese food before heading back to the flat where John promptly goes and takes a shower in preparation for bed.

Through it, his mind is still whirling, and now that he was aware of the age, he realized which ones were elites based on the fact that they looked like they were in their twenties. John, of course, though the shoulder injury must have changed his aging. Jacob, Hyder, Eric, and Nathan. Who was the sixth? Daria's aging was slowed cause of her mate if he understood properly. It was then he remembered that Cyanne had mentioned the elites and their aging before but he hadn't considered it really important at the time. Important enough not to delete not so important as to actively consider it. Elites and their mates always seem physically younger than they are unless something occurs to force them into using too much of the gift. He'll have to try and see some more necks, see if it is one of the other wolves in the pack.

With that in mind he opened the laptop to the file on the varieties and markers, going through it to realize that it covered European and American types, which did differ but that there was not any of the Oriental types on it. Soo Lin, his mind brings up. She had Oriental shifter in her, perhaps she could fill the marking sheet in or her brother since he actually was a shifter. Speaking of her, what is going to happen with her? He hadn't heard anything else on that situation yet since John had given him the information about the book.

Giving a small shake of his head he is startled when he turns upon hearing John leave the bathroom. John's currently in the kitchen with a towel wrapped low around his waist and that's it. Every golden inch of his upper body is visible including a collection of scars and its all he can do not to go and touch. Somehow though, he is sure that touching would be A Bit Not Good. You don't randomly touch your flatmat, he reminds himself as he catalogues every single mark and spot in sight. Yes John's hands and face are a bit tanner than the rest of him but they are a brown tone, the rest of him is golden, the color of being naturally tan instead. His hair is not that combed style he generally sticks to as he moves about.

Just before his shorter flatmat is going to retreat back to his room, he states, "Tell me about Jace."

Walking over with two mugs of tea, the shorter man hands him one before answering, "Jace is a mixed blood shifter who's birth pack thought it would be a good idea to harm him. Technically he is a pup still, Daria has claimed him as hers." He pauses to take a sip of tea, "I was going to ask if you would take him clothes shopping."

"Why?" he inquires.

John smiles at him replying after he finishes his tea, "You're good at color coordination, dressing to your advantage, and knowing how to carry yourself as if you belong everywhere and anywhere while using clothes as a means to do so."

He blinks, he really hadn't thought the shorter man had noticed with his jumpers and plain button downs. But wasn't that just as much a front? His mind asked. After all, you learned tonight that he is one of the leading members of the shifters here in Britain. That has to mean something. But he is not going to reflect on it right now. Instead he tilts his head to the side, his mind absently cataloguing his flatmates reactions while he asks, "Do you know his measurements? I prefer a tailor which is all custom made."

Standing, John walks over to where he is seat and kneels down so they are face to face, "I don't know them, but something tells me you could figure it out from an image of him standing yes?"

He nods, waiting to see where this will go. He is well aware of all that skin just within reach and it is difficult to keep himself from touching it. He really hopes that John is distracted right now, because John will never be his, the mark his flatmates wrist promises that.

"I can show you," comes the softly spoken offer, left hand lifted up and hovering between them but not touching. He nods once, worrying his lower lip as he leans forward just a bit and closing the distance between John's hand and his temple. A smile curves the older man's lips and then he can feel the brush just before the images flow through his mind of the teenager standing perfectly still, body painfully thin in his raggedy clothing.

"Thank you," he tells the shorter man as he considers what he knows. Posture speaks of years of abuse and neglect. He's too thin, so he has not been properly feed. Clothing is worse than most of his homeless wear. His coloring is a lot like Sherlock's with dark hair and light skin, but his eyes seem to vary between a green color and a brown color. The marks on his neck speak of being an elite, a wolf, a lynx, and a crow, but something seems off about the combination. He doesn't notice when John withdraws, his mind too focused on the young man and his clothing. Along with possibly some lessons in how to defend himself from that type of thing ever happening again.

When Cyanne shows up a few hours later, he's still deep in thought, though the type of thought has changed.

"Good afternoon, elder-second," she greeted him as she set her small bag that she carried her stuff in down.

It took him a moment to pull out of his mind palace enough to answer, but then he got to thinking that she would be perfect for asking questions. "Cyanne," he greets her as he sits up, sometime during his thinking process he had sprawled out the way he always does on the sofa and now wishes to face her. "What exactly is the role of the elder-second or alpha-second?"

She smiles, perching on the armrest of the sofa as she replies, "They assist the alpha-elder in maintaining the pack."

His eyes narrow as he considers that, "Is not the beta's position?"

She shakes her head a bit, "They overlap. The alpha-elder is at the top, the final say in the pack. When dealing with adults, reports, protection, and territory the beta-senior assists the alpha-elder in making sure everything is run smoothly. It is up to the alpha-elder-second to help with the domestic side of things, the pups, the supplies and resources, people, distance protection such as surveillance. In that you've lucked out, Eric does most of it out of boredom."

"So why is Eric not the alpha-second then?" he demands. His mind filling in placement, she had handed him a chart with the various positions within a pack and he was quickly memorizing them.

She blinks at him for a moment, glancing towards the bedroom upstairs before answering slowly, "Well he lacks the one requirement for it."

"That is?" he drawls, low on patience.

"The potential to be the bondmate of…" she starts to tell him but is quickly cut of,

"Cyanne!" John is entering the room dressed again in his jeans and jumper but his voice still holds the edge to it.

She bows her head, not finishing the sentence. A few minutes later she excuses herself after packing everything up and bidding both of them farewell.

He really wants an answer but decides not to press the issue right now. John is definitely not going to tell him, and after that snap he is certain that Cyanne is not going to tell him either. So he will have to find a way to find out. Wait…the boy, pup, Jace. He would understand, and he probably wouldn't think anything of telling a fellow pack member who is human about it. He'll ask him when they go to get his clothes.

With that in mind he jumps up, and goes to his room for the laptop since John is currently using his. He needs to figure out what styles he would look best in so he can put in an order to the tailor and then take the time to take him there. He'll just have to remember to be careful when dealing with him. For some reason he will have to consider later, he does not want to disappoint John by messing up his place within the pack when the pack had been mostly very welcoming of him in a way nowhere else in his life ever had been.


	23. Day Out

_Thank you all for your lovely reviews! I hope everyone enjoys._

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_Chapter 23  
__Sherlock's POV  
_In the following week since they had dealt with the smugglers there had been zero interesting cases. He had three of them that he had solved from home. Despite the fact it had been a week he had not had a chance to get bored because he had been busy bugging any member of the pack who he could get to the flat to teach him everything that they could. He wanted to know everything that he could about the pack. Like its alpha, the pack had its own place within his Mind Palace.

One thing that he wanted to figure out was who John's bondmate was. None of the wolves or any other member of the pack had a matching mark on them. According to what he had learned all bondmates had identical marks. They might vary in color but that was it. Though he did not know why they would vary with color. Was there a reason for it?

It was very frustrating to him. It was important that he did not lose his John though he was having a hard time coming to understand why. There had to be a reason why he felt more focused when he was around, why he felt like he could connect better. He also was trying to figure out why he now felt attraction for a person when he had been pretty much asexual from the time he hit puberty.

When the attraction had first hit he had been confused and embarrassed by it. He hadn't any sort of idea of what he was going to do about it. Ignore it and maybe it would go away, he had thought, but after nearly three months it had not. Instead it seemed to be growing on a regular bases. Before he had only his imaginations image of John in his head, now he knew exactly what the vast majority of his body looked like and he found he wanted to touch it and taste it, observe and learn his every reaction. It was distracting.

Shortly after lunch his phone went off, the majority of the clothes was ready, they merely needed to have the final fitting done.

Smiling, he grabs his phone, texting Daria to ask her if they could meet at the tailors so Jace could get his fitting. She had answered within moments after he sent the text that it would be acceptable much to his delight.

Originally he had considered asking the pup to tell him about pack values and ranks but had dismissed that idea almost immediately because he had been from a different pack. Who's to say they used the same values? Besides, with what he understood of the boy he did not want to make his life any harder and he might put him at odds with John if he was to ask him.

With all of that in mind he dresses carefully, choosing to wear clothes that enhance his appeal in a friendly manner, not a sexual one. This would actually be his first meeting with Jace and the impression he wanted to leave was trustworthy ally. Once dressed he grabs his coat from the hanger and sends a quick text to John about where he will be incase John gets home from the clinic before he is done.

He is surprised to see a cabbie pull up almost before he has finished calling for one. However a cursory look tells him this man belongs to a pack, just not his pack. That he is fairly low level in the pack he belongs to. Is not yet bonded to anyone but does have a family according to the pictures with kids in them. His mind is just turning to take in the state of that relationship when the cabbie stops at the tailors for him.

After paying the man, he takes a deep breath before pushing open the door and taking everything in with a sweep of his eyes. First thing he spots is the pup standing close to Daria, shoulders slouched as if he is trying to be smaller than he is, his glance flickering over everything as they wait. He looks better than he did the last time he saw him, or even in the memory of his first meeting with John but he still looks a bit unhealthy. The female viper with him appears to be on alert, her eyes catching sight of him almost as soon as he enters the room.

Smiling at her charmingly, he strides over, reminding himself as he does so to keep track of his emotions. If john could smell them, so could this boy who really did not need to.

"Hello," he greets the two of them, offering his right hand with the wrist uncovered. According to Mouse it was the proper way to greet members of the pack that you liked. It allowed the energy flow between them and that in turn strengthened the pack bond.

Daria accepts his hand with an easy smile, "Hello sir," she murmurs in response.

He turns his smile to Jace, offering his hand, "I don't believe we have met yet, I'm Sherlock Holmes, call me Sherlock please."

Jace's eyes flicker to Daria as if asking permission or if its safe, possibly even both before offering his hand to shake. "Jace Arden," he replies, stumbling over the last name.

Despite the fact he shakes his hand, he does not attempt to connect their wrists in any form and he takes a moment to determine why. His conclusion is simple, he does not feel as if he belongs to the pack yet. Why? Of course, he has not formally been accepted into the pack by the alpha-second. Yes, John had accepted him into the pack but it was up to Sherlock as the alpha-second for it to be formalized. He would make sure to do that before they left here.

Moments later Jean Claude, the owner of the shop was standing beside them after giving a small bow, "Ah, Mr. Holmes! I am so pleased to see you, when I first got your order I was surprised, the measurements weren't yours and double checked it plus the styles to make sure that it was the correct order however I believe you will be well pleased." He smiles at him, then turns his attention to the viper and the pup, "Hello, greetings to you as well."

"Jean," he turns to partially face the smaller Frenchmen, "This is Daria Arden and her adopted son Jace Arden," he introduces them, motioning to each in turn. Out of the corner of his eye he notices Jace tense up when he starts speaking and relax as he introduces the boy as her family. It might not be formal, but it is still acceptance of him into the pack.

Jean turns to Jace, looking him over carefully, "Hello Mr. Arden, from your size I would say the measurements are for you. How about we get you fitted to make sure that it will all work out?" he motions for the boy to follow but carefully does not touch him.

Jace looks nervously to Daria who nods reassuringly before slowly following the shorter man. When they reach the door to the fitting room, he balks at going in until they join him. Jean fetches him the first outfit to try, having him go into the changing room to put it on and come back out to make sure the measurements fit. While he is doing that, he turns to the viper to ask her some questions since she is one of the few he had not had a chance to quiz.

"Do you know who John's bondmate is?" he inquires, glance flipping between her and Jace.

Her eyes never leave her pup as she responds, "Indeed I do, I also think he is handling the situation wrong but I understand why."

Titling his head he queries, "Really? Why?" if there is a good reason for his behavior maybe he will stop trying to pursue that line of questioning. Who's he trying to fool? There is no way he plans to stop until he knows.

She smiles lightly, answering, "His bondmate is human, male surprisingly enough, and someone he respects greatly. He will never force the issue on him, and feels that if he was aware of the cost to John that it might influence him in his choice, something that John wishes to avoid at all costs."

She had just paused for a moment to take a breath when Jace lets out a blood curling scream when one of the tailor's assistance accidently brushes his arm against his behind. Trembling, he stumbles away from the man, nearly falling as he does so because he forgot the step that he was standing on. With quick reflexes born of years of running after criminals and being on the streets of London, he darts forward and catches the boy, making sure he doesn't actually hurt himself. It surprises him when Jace curls his body into his, pressing as close as he can and crying.

He eyes narrow on Jean and he nods to the door. Moments later all the assistance are gone and the only ones in the room are Daria, Jace, and himself.

Hestiently, because he is not sure what to do, he calls up memories of how Lestrade deals with trauma victims and carefully puts an arm around the boys shoulders while he cries, his other hand gently brushing his back, while he makes what he hopes are soothing noises in his throat.

Eventually he calms down, straightening out and looking at the ground sheepishly without saying a word.

He tries for a kind smile as he uses his left hand to tilt his face up so they are looking eye to eye, "You'll be safe, John will allow nothing less, nor would the pack. If someone tries to hurt you they will find themselves face an entire pack of soldiers and one high-functioning sociopath and I promise that is something no one wants to do." His voice is low and rumbling as he tries to pitch his tone to help Jace relax. It seems to work, because he nods, eventually stepping back a little bit.

Daria fusses over him for a few minutes before asking if he wants to continue on. He agrees and she goes to fetch the tailors. While she is doing that, he carefully offers his arm to the young shifter, making sure to mimic John's posture of a few months prior when he had been brought into the fold. For a minute the shifter just stares at him in shock. Then he seems to finally accept the offer because he unfastens the shirt sleeve and slowly places his arm over, his grip light as the link is formed and connected.

Not long after that, the viper returns, Jean and his assistance in tow with her.

Afterward the two of them go back to watching and softly speaking while Jace gets his fitting done.

"What's the cost to John?" he inquires as he keeps his eyes on the pup to make sure that there is not another panic attack.

She glances at him, expression serious as she answers, "All shifters have two potential bondmates that they can choose from, a male and a female. Sometimes a shifter who loses both mates will get a chance with a third, though it is rare." She begins, "With wolves though, they only ever have one bondmate for wolves mate for life. If it does not work between John and his mate, then he will never have a spouse."

What? John without a family seems extremely wrong to him even if that family would cost him his John. Despite how selfish he is, he still wants John to be happy that is another item that he will have to review later. But for now back to the question at hand.

"Oh." He mutters in response, not sure what else to say.

"He's also dealing with the need of the link, the desire to be with his bondmate as much as possible, the desire to make his bondmate happy, and the urge to touch, be affectionate of his bondmate." The look she gives him speaks volumes but he is not sure he understands.

What she is saying sounds like John's behavior with him, but when he had been at the restaurant that first night and said he was married to his Work, john had not protested. But then, he thinks about it for a bit, he had said that his scent was not open to the idea. So he had been attracted but was not pushing it because Sherlock had said no right off the bat. Since then he was sure there were plenty of times he had smelled attracted but he had always retreated to his room or the shower as soon as the feels started so perhaps john had missed them.

Was Daria saying he was the bondmate? What would that do to their relationship if he did act on it?

"However, here is where John's behavior becomes understandable to a point. When two shifters bond they have the choice to end it if something happens to make them wish to, it is rare, very rare but it can occur. When a shifter bonds with a human that choice is gone, the bond is forever but the human always has the chance of changing, where the bond is no longer welcome but cannot escape it except in death." She pauses, taking a look around the room before continuing, "He refuses, absolutely refuses, to put someone in a position of what he considers no choice." She shrugs, an elegant motion that reminds him she really is a snake hiding as a human, "He will sink everything he can into the relationship without ever pushing for more because to push for more would do opposite of what he is trying to do with his behavior."

Before he has a chance to ask any more questions he is mildly startled to see Jean come over with Jace, beaming proudly while the young man blushes.

"Wonderful choices, Mr. Holmes, they are perfect with his coloring and build. The design even allows for this young fellow to grow into them as well!" The excitable Frenchmen rumbles as they stop next to them, Jace is back in the clothes he arrived in though he has a slip of paper with him that is his receipt for delivery.

He looks over at the younger man who is standing so quietly by the viper, his posture showing that he is afraid and worried that he is going to mess up. Lunch, his mind supplies, offer lunch. It's a good way to get to know him, though you might have to snack or he won't eat. "Would you like lunch?" he inquires softly, looking directly between the two to keep from putting pressure on the younger man

Daria smiles at the offer, turning to softly ask him, "Are you hungry?"

He slowly nods, eyes flickering between the two of them quickly.

"Excellent! I know a restaurant right down the road from here with a wide selection." Turning to Jean he bids the Frenchmen farewell before heading to the door with the same abruptness that he does most everything before realizing that he almost forgot to make sure that they were coming.

When he stops to look back at them, he is almost surprised to see how close they were and Daria chuckles at him, her tone low. "Don't worry about it elder-second, Eric is the same way."

Flashing her the charming smile, he comments, "Call me Sherlock."

She inclines her head, "Alright Sherlock," she murmurs in response, her natural tendency to hiss the s making his name sound more like ssh-ure-lock.

The rest of the walk is silent as the three of them head to the small restaurant. When they get there he holds the door open politely, remembering his years of etiquette training without even trying. Once inside the hostess, a young woman who he had helped a few years back comes scurrying over, a smile on her face, "Sherlock!" She exclaims, "I have your booth available if you would like for you and your company."

"That would be nice, thank you Tammy." He replies as he unwraps his scarf from around his neck as she leads them to a booth near the last window. She disappears for a moment before returning with a set of menus and a large mug of hot chocolate. Nearly four years ago she had realized that he had a sweet tooth and while he did not always eat, he had not been able to turn down one of her specially made hot chocolates with its rich chocolate flavoring mixed with fresh vanilla bean, hazelnut, toffee, and cinnamon.

"That smells good," Jace murmurs then blushes, ducking his head a bit.

Flashing a smile to the boy, he pushes the cup his way, "Go ahead, I'll have her bring me another one. It's delicious."

For a minute his glance flickers back and forth before he peeks over at the viper sitting to his left. Slowly, as if making sure its not a cruel joke, he accepts the mug and takes a slow sip, eyes going comically wide as the flavor hits his tongue.

"Oh wow."

"Do not forget to order some food," he reminds the younger man who seems completely absorbed in the hot chocolate.

Smiling, a small laugh escapes Daria as she watches her pup.

"You should try this," he tells her offering the mug without thinking. When she blinks at him for a moment, he blushes, and sets it down embarrassed.

She gently unfolds his fingers from their death grip on its handle as she lifts it up to take a small sip. "Hmmmmm, your right this is good." Setting the mug back down, she inches the menu closer to him, "Go on, pick something to eat. You cannot have a purely liquid meal for lunch."

He nods once, ducking his head as he blushes deeper red, though this time its not embarrassment turning him pink.

Over the next couple of hours he works towards drawing Jace out of his shell. Food and hot chocolate seem to be a good starting point, so from their he tries to keep the conversation light as he goes from that to if he is working the Cyanne to inquiring what he likes to do with his free time. Through it, Jace does mostly well but has a panic attack when a guy trips and crashes into him, knocking him off his chair before turning to yell at him. Before either Daria or him have a chance to comfort the terrified teen the manager is there, kicking the other man out and apologizing profusely. The other instance of difficulty comes when he inquires about if the boy knows how to play any instruments or not.

While he is not sure what that was about, he sets about calming him down by asking if he had ever heard a violin in person and if he wants to, ignoring the panic attack to allow him to compose himself. It works and a few minutes later the three of them are back at the flat where he carefully lifts his Strad to just below his chin and plays softly, drawing the notes out. He might not be good at verbalizing what he is thinking but the violin does an excellent job of speaking for him. Apparently Jace is no more immune to the tones of it than anyone else who had ever heard him when he is uses it to express his moods intentionally.

That's how John finds the three of them several hours later, with Sherlock at his place by the window, Jace perched in John's armchair, and Daria perched on the arm of it.


	24. Shifting

_Thanks to all of my lovely reviewers, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well._

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_Chapter 24  
__John's POV  
_It is not surprising that Sherlock is playing the violin when he gets back home, what surprises him is the fact that Sherlock is playing the violin with Jace and Daria listening. Daria breaks away from the performance when he walks in, coming to stand beside where he is at in the kitchen.

_He is surprisingly gentle with him, _she tells him, using the link between them rather than her voice_. It is as startling as Eric's behavior towards him. How both of our packmates with Aspergers manage to pull off what an entire pack didn't seem to understand is highly amusing in a disappointing sort of way. _

Glancing over at the two he understands exactly what she means. The two men with the biggest emotional blocks and least tendency towards being nice seem to be the ones who understand the teens damaged mind better than any of the other pack except maybe his bondmother who is a healer. His birth pack sure as hell didn't understand, they were the root of the problem, though he should probably check in on what Jacob did with them.

That also reminded him, he needed to deal with Soo Lin and her brother as well. Oh brother, life just got busier it seemed.

_Still, it is heartening to see, it means if we ever manage to complete the bond then bond-adoption will not be out of the question._ He tells her as he watches. _Is Soo Lin and her brother aware?_

_No. He is still in hibernation and she is sleeping deeply, not in hibernation but not awake, _comes her soft response.

_Alright, so that is not a situation I need to deal with yet. Do you know what Jacob did with the other pack?_ He queries.

She closes her eyes for a moment, thinking about each of the members before replying, _He handed some of them over to me to deal with, some over to Eric, and the rest he dealt with. I do not believe any of them were executed, though with Eric one can never be sure. I do know that three of the ones given over to me required mind healing, they are currently hibernating. The other four that he gave into my care are being observed by Nathan while we are away from the house. When we are at home they are kept as far away from Jace as I can, they have not left the basement where I currently have them locked in. while I told him if he wishes to confront any of them he may, and we will back him as needed he has shown no interest in doing so. _She pauses for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, _I cannot unlock his shifting. I have tried every method I was taught and he is still blocked. I can feel the pain that comes from it but there is nothing I can do about it. As iota I request the alpha's assistance in correcting this situation. _

He nods, turning to look at the two dark haired men in the living room, one playing his violin, the other watching in rapt fascination. _I'll unlock his ability. _

She gives a partial bow before returning her attention to his human as he finishes the melody he was on.

When he stops playing, his eyes narrow towards them as he comments, "You two are thinking loudly, not clearly, but definitely loudly."

He smiles at his flatmates ability to notice it before turning his attention to Jace, who ducks his head a little as he stands holding perfectly still. His posture submissive, oh that will have to be changed. Wolves should never be submissive, respectful yes, submissive no.

"Would you like to learn to shift?" he inquires of the younger shifter, watching him closely.

Slowly the younger nods once, mumbling, "I would."

His smile grows as he finishes making the tea he had been working on while speaking with the viper. Handing Sherlock a cup of tea, and then Jace, he returns to the kitchen to grab his before coming back into the sitting room area.

"Sherlock, do you know of any place where we could conceivably go that is large and without people?" he inquires of his flatmate.

For a moment the taller man considers it as he sips at his tea, then he replies, "Mycroft's warehouse should be empty though you might want to check first."

-Eric, check the warehouse Mycroft took me to in order to see if there is anyone in it.- JW

Less than a minute later the response chimes in, -Empty for three days.- Tech

"It's open for use right now." he tells the room at large, "Shall we? If you would like I can bring him home later on."

She smiles at him but it doesn't reach her eyes as the viper replies, "I'll stick around, you know I have always found the various forms interesting."

He nods, collecting up the empty cups and taking them into the kitchen to quickly wash them. Afterwards, still considering how he wishes to do this, he walks back into the living room still lost in thought. Daria he is sure could make it there without being detected, so too could he with Sherlock, but how to get Jace there is the problem at hand. He could with very little effort use the boys natural talent for shielding, but that would require him taking control of the younger shifters mind and he does not wish to do that.

"Why can't you carry him and me? Your wolf form is more than up to it." Sherlock suggests from his armchair.

Daria gasps at the idea, staring at him in shock, her scent is horrified. Jace violently shakes his head backing up as far as he can in the chair, terror pours off of him. A confused look crosses the tall humans while his scent is impatient.

"That's not done! Only immediate family ever rides on an elite and even then only non-shifters or those who are too young to shift." Her voice is low is as tells him that. The idea alone has her quaking. Generally if a person not immediate family was being carried by an elite it meant they were dead or dying.

Turning his stormy eyes on him, his flatmate demands, "John, explain."

That elects another gasp out of the younger shifter who is staring at him in outright shock and fear. Though according to his scent, he is not afraid of him, but for him. Well that is interesting. Sherlock might be a good influence on him and the other way around.

Sherlock's eyes narrow on Jace for a moment before returning to him while waiting for an answer.

Giving a small shrug, he answers, "Traditionally an elite never consents to allowing anybody to riding them except those who are immediate family of one type or another, then it is only non-shifters or small children who do not yet have the gift, occasionally older members who's gift is not as strong any longer or who are too weak in either form to keep up." he pauses considering it for a moment before smiling, "Though I would say I am not the person who worries about most traditions. If I did my pack would not be what it is. So it is a good idea, particularly since I really could do so without any difficulty." turning to look at the younger shifter he inquires, "Would you be comfortable with Sherlock making sure you don't fall off? You'd either have to ride behind him and hold on, or ride in front and have him hold you."

Jace's eyes get massively wide as he stares at him considering the options. He can just about hear the wheels turning in the younger shifters head before he finally nods in consent. Despite the fact he is willing to allow the younger shifter on his back, he will only really do so with Sherlock there as well, otherwise there is something innately wrong about the entire idea.

A few minutes later finds the four of them in the alley outside of the flat. It takes him less than a thought to shift between forms. Standing there he observes the other three from his canine form, watching as Daria partially shifts and then fades from sight as she shields and Jace watches in fascination and a little bit of fear. Slowly, so not to startle the already frighten pup, he lowers himself down so the two can get on his back. Part of him rebels about the idea of someone other than his mate on his back but he suppresses that part of his nature with the ease of years of controlling it during combat.

Sherlock gets on first, offering a hand to the younger man to help him on. Biting his lip he bows low, head nearly touching his knees before he inches around to his side and takes the humans hand, swinging up on behind him. Unsure what to do with himself, he hesitantly wraps his too skinny arms around the older humans middle, trying to figure out how he is going to do this without touching the alpha-second too much while on the alpha's back.

He can just about hear the younger shifters thoughts going a thousand miles a minute before Sherlock finally just tugs him forward so he is pressed against his back, his arms locked around his middle.

"Ready John," his potential bondmate tells him as he pulls the shield around them.

A moment later he is sprinting over the roof tops, jumping with an ease that he had missed during his time of not shifting. When in this form he can move faster than most cars on the street because he does not have to deal with the traffic up here. In less than ten minutes he has gone across town and is silently landing after a long jump on the ground not far from the old warehouse. Trotting up to it, he uses his paw to push the door open before entering and unshielding. Daria appears by his side, still in her hybrid form as he drops downing, allowing his passengers off before he shifts back into his human form.

"Lovely run," he murmurs smiling.

Daria chuckles at him, shaking her head, "I forget how much wolves like to run, you never join the pack on the monthly runs."

He shrugs, "I hardly ever joined on the pack runs even before I was deployed. I'm faster and it gets dull having to circle back because the alpha feels insulted you out run them. Of course, that is no longer an issue but I am no longer in the habit of running with the pack. Jacob flies with me sometimes however since he can keep and complains when I am on my own."

Turning to face Jace he smiles again, "Now then, the first part of the shift will burn as it unlocks, you were bound so it will not be pleasant getting rid of the bonding and for that I am deeply sorry. On the plus side, once the blockage is gone shifting will be a smooth feeling, a rush of power as you go between forms."

The younger shifter nods once, body slightly trembling as he waits. John lifts his left hand, placing it carefully against the younger man's temple and focuses. Falling into the wellspring of energy that is his to use, he calls on the healing knowledge that he used more regularly before becoming the alpha. Once he has the knowledge he needs called to mind, he shifts his attention to Jace's mind, gently brushing against the edges of it as he follows his life force to the abilities that make him what he is. As he moves through the younger man' s mind, he smoothes the edges out, doing a minor amount of mind healing as he reaches into his source of power. When he gets there he studies the blockage for a moment before taking his power and severing it, at the same time taking control of the younger man's body and causing him to shift into the form he is most familiar with, that of a wolf.

Once the younger man is shifting he steps back but maintains the link between their minds, taking him through the entire process until he is standing there a large grey-black wolf with light colored eyes. Soon as his form is finished he carefully directs him back through the shifting process so he is in human form and still dressed.

The younger wolf sways and he reaches his hand back out to steady him, inquiring, "You alright?"

"Yes sir," he mumbles, voice soft as his mind processes.

Smiling he lets go and he straightens out, blinking rapidly at him. "Call me John," he tells the younger man, then queries, "Were you paying attention to how that felt and worked?"

The younger man nods once and he smiles then he tells him, "Alright, go from human to wolf. We'll work on the hybrid form in a bit."

Slowly, with his focus tuned completely inwards the younger shifter pulls the image of his wolf to the front and allows the change to happen despite the fact he smell greatly of fear. Moments later the grey-black wolf is standing in his place, panting at the energy it takes to move between forms.

"Walk around a bit, get used to moving, when your ready come back over here and we will work on bringing you back into human form without forgetting your clothing." He tells the younger wolf.

Jace bobs his head, unfamiliar with how to use the telepathy the others take for granted. For the next half hour he wanders around the room, sometimes running, sometimes jumping, occasionally sitting. John can smell his pleasure at the freedom this form provides. Eventually he get tired and all he wants to do is rest but he can't do that here so the young wolf returns to his alpha and waits for assistance on the shift back. Once he is in human form, still dressed though on his rump because he lost his balance, he smiles before promptly fainting.

-Send someone with a car would you?- JW

-Be there shortly.- Tech

He sends the message then checks on Jace, happy to see that he is healing at a rapid rate now that the block is gone. Since he is unconscious, he uses it as a perfect time to work on healing just a bit more of his mind. Taking the edge even further off of the memories that swamp him.

-I'm here? Wherever here is.- PiM

Leaning down he scoops the young man up, his shoulder complaining as he does so, "Well Daria, your ride is here, let's get him in the car and you two can be off."

"Oh," she murmurs, "who?"

"Maria, the canine multiform." He replies as he walks out of the warehouse and into the sunlight.

Maria is standing next to a small car, holding the backdoor open when they approach.

"Alpha, I would offer you a ride as well but there is not enough space." She greets him.

After setting Jace down he waves it off, "It's alright, I can enjoy the trip home. Drive safely yes?"

She nods, hugging him and brushing her head against his chest for a moment affectionately before getting in the driver's seat. Daria inclines her head and gets into the passenger's seat. With all three fastened into the car they take off, leaving Sherlock and him alone.

Sniffing the air he is mildly surprised to discover that his tall companion is jealous right now, though he is not sure of what.

Not saying anything, he reshifts into his wolf form, allowing Sherlock to get on and slowly making his way back to the flat while shielded. He is enjoying his bondmates touch too much to rush the process though he knows he will sleep when they get home.


	25. Dinner and Questions

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

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_Chapter 25  
__Mycroft's POV  
_He had hoped that the army doctor would be a good influence on his brother younger brother and in many ways he was. The reports showed that he was getting along better with the Yard, or at least he was not being as vicious when dealing with them. He was getting cases completed far faster and without as much drama. All of this was good, yet there was a problem too. There were times he would step outside of his flat on camera and a moment later he was gone. Missing. The camera's could not find him anywhere and then he would reappear in the strangest places but the camera's would malfunction and the video would stop or cut out. It was driving him insane.

He was worried about what was happening with his brother, but Aragorn could not find him either when asked to. A large part of him was terrified that he was getting back into drugs, but if that was the case Lestrade would not still be allowing him on cases. So what was he doing when he vanished from the cameras? Perhaps he should have dinner was Lestrade to discuss his brother's behavior. It had been a few weeks since the last time they had done so.

With that in mind he quickly hacks the detective inspector's phone, adding the appointment for dinner that night before telling Anthea to clear it on the schedule.

She mutters, "Sir," before going back to being silent on her phone.

With that task taken care of he returns to getting his files done. The more he can get accomplished now, the less he will have to consider while he is at dinner. The more focus he will have available for the adorable detective inspector.

Shit. He thinks, there I go again. I really need to stop thinking of him like that. Nothing will ever come of it. He was married to a woman for the last fifteen years. Had two children with her, well he thought they were his, though Mycroft was fairly certain they were not. There was nothing in his history that suggested that he had ever been interested in men so why was he so stuck on the idea?

Sighing to himself, he wraps up the set of files he is on before checking his watch. He still has two hours before he needs to head out to retrieve the detective inspector for dinner. He can probably get two or three more reports done if he can only focus. Forcing his concentration back to the task at hand he carefully goes over each of the files in detail, making sure not to miss a single thing. Shortly before it is time for him to go Anthea reminds him of the time. Smiling to himself he realizes that he had actually completed five of the files, not the original three that he thought that he would.

Standing, he stretches for the first time in hours before carefully straightening his suit and heading to his car. Anthea closes the door quietly behind him before getting in on the other side of the car. The two sit in the vehicle in companionable silence as Anthony drives them to NSY to pick Gregory up. Upon getting there, she shifts to the front of the car with Anthony, putting the divider up between them as the detective inspector slides into the car through the door she had just left open.

"Hello Mr. Holmes," the slightly older man greets him as he sits down with a sigh.

Apparently it was a long day, he notes as he notices that the detective inspector is a bit more disheveled than when he is just doing desk work. There is a variety of mud of the bottom of his pant legs and side of his shoes that speaks of chasing someone through the underground. Since he wasn't on camera, he must have been in the sewers for the chase, the old ones that are disused by any but the criminal element or homeless. A fresh set of bruises on his knuckles speaks of a good right hook judging by their placement. While his fingers keep reflexively opening and closing like he is still holding a pen, so they must have caught the man and finished up the paperwork.

All of this is noticed with a blink of the eye as he replies, "Good evening detective inspector."

The ride to the restaurant is quiet, though he cannot determine what the feeling in the air is. It's not the companionable silence he shares with Anthea, or the energetic silence he is used to with Sherlock, or the accepting silence that John prefers. It's full of tension but he could not figure out the type of tension for the life of him.

Upon getting to the restaurant, the door slides open as Anthea opens it, standing as silent as she ever does when not using her phone to type. Both the tall men slide out, with Gregory thanking his PA even as he nods to her and turns towards the small restaurant. Nothing else is said as they enter, the host being well aware of who Mycroft is and quickly showing them to the best and most private table in the room.

Before they were even seated the waiter was there with a delicious mug of hot milk chocolate with coconut milk and banana melted into it for him and a dark blend coffee creamed and sugared to the level he noticed that his companion preferred after a case before retreating again. The nice thing about a place like this was they took good care of their best customers.

Gregory seems to be startled by the coffee and looks between it and him with a curious look on his face.

"I informed the host a few days ago to your preferred coffee since this is somewhere I am partial to coming due to their excellent service." He answers the unspoken question as he takes a sip at his hot chocolate.

"Oh, well thank you," the normally articulate man responds. After he takes a sip of it, he sighs happily, murmuring, "Why can't I get something like this at the yard?" after another sip he speaks a bit louder, inquiring, "So what would you like to talk about Mr. Holmes? Generally these dinners are about the idiotic and foolish comings of your brother but he has been mostly behaving lately which I attribute to John's influence on him."

Taking another sip, he waits to answer, knowing that Aaron the head of the waiters would be there in less than a minute to take their orders. Since he hates interrupting a conversation once started he would prefer to wait. Sure enough, the slightly heavy set, mostly honest man with a decent memory for those who come through often enough. Ordering is an easy affair, he simply asks for the chef's special and waits patiently for his companion to make his selection. He's mildly surprised when the detective decides to do the same. Once Aaron is gone, he takes one more sip of his hot chocolate before answering the question.

"Sherlock has been vanishing for long periods of time lately. Normally I can track him in the cctv but lately it is as if he has learned how to become invisible. I am concerned about him, since I know that Doctor Watson would not assist me, I thought to ask you if you knew anything." He replies, then takes another sip of his nearly gone hot chocolate.

"Call me Greg or Gregory for this," the older man comments, "because this is not going to be a work related conversation."

That startles him, what detail is he missing? Details are so very important and he really hates not knowing them all.

"Now then," the silvery-brown haired man stands, walking a complete circuit around the table before sitting back down. It was difficult to sit completely still with someone behind him, his training said to quickly get them back in his view. "You're not marked so I cannot say too much on the subject. But I will answer what I can."

Tilting his head to the side just the slightest he observes that man as he queries, "Marked?"

Before he has a chance to answer, Aaron and their waiter is back with their dinners plus drinks to go with it.

"Marked, that's the correct word. Those who are shifters or part of one of the shifter clans are all marked, it's not a mark that can be faked either since it is only visible to other shifters, those with shifter or gifted blood, and those within a clan." The silver haired detective answers softly as he cuts into the well done steak before him.

Shifter. How interesting, he thinks, there is nothing anywhere in the detective file mentioning that he is a shifter, so how would he know this or see the mark that he is referring to? He is considering asking this when the detective inspector continues speaking.

"My father is a shifter, his mate, my mother a human, I took after her, so while I see the markings, I myself do not have any."

Oh. His mind short circuits, here is a person who could teach him about the world that he knows is there cannot discover a damn thing about. That is simply a wonderful thing. He will have to make time in his schedule to do so. Immediately. "What does the shifter clans have to do with my brother?" he eventually asks.

Giving a small smile, the older man answers, "Simple enough, John belongs to one of the clans, Sherlock has been adopted into that clan, thus under the clans protection. If there is one thing I can say is clan protection is the most detailed protection you'll find anywhere." He pauses eating a bit more, "Your tendency to observe might be taken as a threat and thus your ability to observe interfered with. Any watchers you have on him will have problems doing so too." He shrugs, "the clans are highly defensive of their own."

"Oh," the normally fluent politician is not sure what else to say. Does that mean he is no longer needed? He had always been Sherlock's protector, even when they were children. After he had left for school it had become more difficult and Sherlock had resented him. That was actually when the feud between them had started. Sherlock had been separated from their youngest brother by their mother, and no amount of trying to talk her into allowing them back together worked. She was the one person his charms failed on.

"Any other questions I may or may not be able to answer?" the older man's voice was light as he inquired.

"Do you know the type of protection that he has? Will they help him always in his crazy schemes? Is there any way that they will stop blocking him so much? I massively dislike not being able to track him in case of an emergency. I am going to assume that the reason I cannot get cameras to work in the flat is this protection and that is why tracking his phone has become almost impossible?" he queries.

The older man chuckles softly, giving a shake of his head, "Some would say you're a stalker Mr. Holmes-"

He interrupts before he continue, "If I am to call you Gregory, you may call me Mycroft."

"-alright, Mycroft. Now then, some would say you're a stalker with that much surveillance going on with your brother, however knowing your brother even the littlest bit tells me that you are not. It is fairly well justified." He pauses to take a sip of the wine that had come with dinner, "It is nearly guaranteed that he has a watcher or two that he is unaware of. And yes, he would be unaware of them if they are doing their job right. The clan's computer tech is probably the reason you cannot get anything on him with technology. I believe that particular group has the best in Britain, or one of the best. I'd suggest sitting down politely with John and having a word with him about it. Not just kidnapping the way you're so fond of doing."

He bristles at the implication of being anything other than polite. "Thank you for the information, Gregory," he just about purrs, watching the other mans reaction.

Good thing the silver haired detective had not been swallowing, he thinks as he watches his throat work like he is trying to swallow, his eyes barely widening and his heart rate speeding up. Wait a moment, is there a chance that the older man is attracted to him? He questions at this response. He will have to find out.

The rest of the dinner goes smoothly. He allows the conversation of the shifters to drop, knowing that there would be nothing else of true importance he could learn until he could find a way to infiltrate one of these clans. Since his brother had joined Dr. Watson's clan, perhaps he should see about doing the same. Throughout dinner however takes the time to press a bit of a flirt to test his hypothesis that the detective found him of interest as well. By the end of it, he was sure that he was and had filed the information away for pursuing when he was not with said detective.

When dinner is done he has Anthony drive them to Gregory's flat, where he bids the detective a good night and is mildly surprised when the older man gently squeezes his shoulder before getting out of the car and heading in. Mind reeling, it takes him a few minutes before he even realizes when he gets home.


	26. Preparation for the Next Pack Meeting D1

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

If anyone is interested in what Cyanne looks like I have a picture of her over on my deviantart account jaemistoryteller (because my preferred spelling was taken)

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_Chapter 26  
__John's POV  
_Another week passes in a blur for the ex-army doctor as he works at the clinic, with Jace on his shifting into a wolf, and the cases where Sherlock leaves the house to do them. Despite how busy he has been he takes the time to make a list of people he needs to talk with or deal with. That list includes the Yao siblings, what's left of the Devon pack, Eric, Greg, and possibly Mycroft. Though that last one he is not sure about yet, Mycroft is one of those subjects that he feels the need to consider closely, possibly even have Eric do a report on him, because if there is one thing Eric excels at doing it is finding information that is not supposed to exist.

Stretching as he leaves the clinic he sends a quick text to Sherlock, inquiring if there is a case and telling him he is doing the shopping.

-No. Boring. Bring milk.-SH

-Alright.- JW

What did he do with the milk this time? He wonders as he walks from the clinic down to the Tesco. As he is walking he is joined by Mouse, her dark hair free falling today as she steps in line with him. Unlike many alpha's he has never demanded that anyone from the pack walk behind him and he doesn't plan to start.

"Did you know, I believe that the best use for training would be to put those two together." she chatters, not bothering with a greeting or saying which two. It is really nothing new, for that is how the mouse shifter is.

"Why?" he inquires curious of her logic.

She shrugs, hopping over a trash collector knocked over before answering, "Simple enough, the nestling needs an example of strength and intelligence that continues despite any challenges against it," she pauses side stepping around a man standing in her way, "while he needs a chance to adjust to the affectionate nature wolves bring to the table. Past that, they both need to learn of this pack, its values and codes, information that is best learned when working with someone else."

He nods and the two turn into the store saying nothing else the entire time they shop though they move with a simple grace. He knows to an outsider they look like a couple well aware but never too close but that would never be the truth. He also knows she does it on purpose, her logic simple, it protects the pack by keeping outsiders from attempting anything that might disturb the budding bond. He does not protest because he understands well why she does what she does. By the time they are done, she has a small collection of fresh vegetables to cook up while he has completed the shopping for items he has discovered he can talk his rarely eating flatmate into eating.

Upon leaving the store the two of them continue back towards his flat, her voice soft when she starts to speak again, "Can I ask why Spathi is his protector out of all of us?"

He gives a small shrug, replying, "She volunteered and unlike many finds him to be amusing. I think she would have stayed in the military had any of the others chosen to. But after I was invalided out, the majority of our pack left the army to regroup here she did not. Since she feels the need to have something to do, she picked a task that was up to her skills and a challenge."

"Oh." The smaller woman tilts her head sides thoughtfully. "That explains a great deal." When they get to the flat she stops by the door, telling him, "Our cobra wishes to train them in defense."

His lips curl in a smirk at that, the idea of them learning defense from Eric is rather amusing. "Arrange it, though not here, here would not be big enough for what he will teach them."

She nods before heading off to her flat just a few miles away. Once she is gone he heads upstairs with the groceries in his hands. They had just got off a case the night before so he knows that his dark-haired human probably had not eaten yet. Not even bothering to put the groceries away he quickly cleans the kitchen and most of the table, grumbling lightly about not wanting to know what some of this stuff was before going and changing clothes. After completing that, he starts cooking dinner, not worried about his flatmate since he can hear him in the bathroom showering.

His dark-haired human exits the bathroom with a towel low on his hips and a second around his shoulders and nothing else on just before he finishes up dinner. Since he knows the taller man will not eat a lot, he does not bother to make him a big plate, instead he just makes sure to make things that he will eat.

"Dinner," he calls out to the younger man who had retreated to his room. Personally he thinks that is both good and bad. Good because too much prancing in that towel and dinner will be forgotten, along with all of his good intentions. Bad because he was vastly enjoying the view the taller man was providing.

Just a few minutes later the taller man comes out of his room wearing a pair of loose fitting night pants, tee shirt, and dressing robe. "Smells interesting," he murmurs as he walks into the living room.

Smiling, he carries the small plate he had made for the other man out to the sitting room with one hand, and his in the other. After setting it down on the small table by his chair he goes and gets the two cups of tea he had also made. His smile grows as he watches the taller man nibble at his food cautiously.

"Well?" he inquires as he eats his dinner.

"Its," there is a long pause as he takes another bite, "interesting, textures different."

He nods, "Then I will add this combination to the menu that I have been working on," he remarks as he finishes his up and collects up his companions dishes from him.

Once that is done he sends a text to Eric. –What did you do with the Devon wolves?- JW

-Put them to use.- Tech

-Dare I ask how?- JW

-Training toys.- Tech.

He can imagine the smirk that the black cobra is giving his phone with that message. Eric enjoys fast and hard training, but most will not spar with him because of how fast he is. He also had a tendency to only barely pull his hits.

-Where are they?- JW

-I allowed them to return to their day life but they are all tagged like mutts so I can track them at will.-Tech.

A moment later his phone chirps at him again before he even has a chance to consider replying.

–Tagged all of them, even the ones the viper and falcon are dealing with.-Tech

Ouch, he thinks, though for Eric that was nice. He had seen the cobra rip a person in two with his tail once because of something they had said about a child so he could easily see him doing massive amounts of damage or killing over the situation with Jace.

-Assemble them. I wish a word with that pack.- JW

-Acquire the rest as well?- Tech

-Yes. Tell me when and where you do so at.- JW

He does not get a response, but that does not surprise him. Particularly when he knows that the cobra will message him as soon as he is done. In the meanwhile he gets out his laptop to work on the blog about the cases that they had worked on. As he types on it, he keeps an eye on his dark-haired human, considering the situation that he finds himself in.

Perhaps Daria is right and he should tell him about the bond. Just get it off of his chest and allow the human a chance to consider it with all the facts before him. Yet that does not seem like the right choice. For one thing, his human is not very good with people and the emotions that goes with them. Dumping the mess at his feet would not be a very fair thing. Particularly when he can smell on regular bases the confusion that Sherlock is having over the fact that he is attracted to him.

Eventually, he thinks as his fingers fly over the keyboard. He will have to tell the dark-haired human eventually. Because eventually his behavior will force the issue. As it is there are times when he has a hard time controlling his desire to protect his bondmate, to touch his bondmate. Luckily enough the protection part is simple due to Elspeth. She makes an excellent protector due to her very nature. Of course, other parts of his nature seem to be easily controlled for now with enough other things going on in his life to make it easier still.

Eventually he gets a text from Eric about the Devon pack. The group will be gathering up at Watson Pack estates in three days. It is also the night of the new moon so he sends a message to Harry asking her to gather the wolf part of the pack at the estates as well. Might as well do this right, he thinks to himself.

He is just about ready to text Daria when he catches her scent as a soft knock sounds on their downstairs door before the viper comes up with Jace close behind.

In the few weeks since Jace had been brought into the pack fold he had went from looking like a waif lost in the storm to looking like a healthy teenager. There were still little signs of the abuse he had suffered in the form of his posture and edginess, but it was lessening over time. He is also certain that the viper iota had been taking the time to mind heal her bondchild as well as continue to improve his body. Judging by the outfit he is wearing, it is one of the ones that Sherlock had ordered for him.

"Hello Sherlock," the teenager murmurs softly upon sitting down on the chair that Eric and Sherlock use most.

His tall human smiles at the younger boy, "Hello Jace, how's your studies?"

With that the two of them are off on a role conversation wise leaving Daria and him to speak in the kitchen.

"The Yao siblings are waking up," she informs him in a low voice.

"Good," he replies, "I was just getting ready to text you about that."

She flashes a smile at him and nods once, "She awoke yesterday but has been staying near her brother. They are currently in the small bedroom on the second floor. I thought it best to keep him away from the Devon pack members. I also got Eric's message about them. It is arranged for Nathan to escort them to the estate. We will be there as well, it is a full moon that night, plan to do a full meeting?"

He nods once, considering it, "I will." He pauses a moment, eyes narrowing, "Already sent out a message to the wolf pack through Harry, figured the rest of you would show up because that's what those two do."

She chuckles, giving a shake of her head. "You're gathering those involved in the situation with Jace, we would all gather for that alone."

"Well lets go deal with the two of them," he tells her, walking into the kitchen he flashes a reassuring smile at Jace and a warm one to his dark-haired human before commenting, "Daria and I need to take care of some things, try not to get into trouble while we're gone."

Sherlock barely acknowledges that he spoke, but Jace nods earnestly before returning his attention to the dark-haired human.

_Keep an eye on them please,_ he directs the multiform cat he can feel in the pack link not to far from him.

_**Please, when don't I keep an eye out for the elder-second? He's too amusing not to.**_ Her soft reply echoes through his mind as he feels her entering the flat though he cannot smell her. _**Let us see if the pup can smell me.**_

He shakes his head, and motions for Daria to go through the door first. Nothing is said on the trip from his flat to her house in one of the better parts of London where there actually are houses with small yards to them. At the house she leads him upstairs to where he can smell the two Asian's with shifter blood. By the door, she inclines her head and withdraws, leaving him to deal with them while she goes to her bondmate.

"Hello Soo Lin," he murmurs after knocking on the door and slowly opening it.

She is perched on the armchair by the window. On the bed pressed against the furthest wall a slender but muscular young man is sitting up rubbing his eyes. Those eyes seem to lack most emotions but a quick probe into the link tells him that he is not emotionless, just trained out of most of them. Currently the male is feeling confusion, anger, betrayal, and just a tiny spark of hope.

"Good morning, Elder," she murmurs in reply, before continuing to introduce, "This is my brother Liang."

He turns to face the other shifter, eyes taking him in carefully even as he continues to read his emotions in the link that Jacob had formed to the pack and his scent. The other man says nothing however just locks onto him with a singly focus gaze.

"Pleasure to meet you in a less violent turn," he states in response.

"What do you plan to do to me?" the Asian shifter asks, voice tired.

He closes the room door and rests against it casually, watching the younger man as he responds, "That depends on you. Your ties to the Black Lotus have been severed, as far as the world knows your dead. So I present you with a few options to choose from. You've already been submerged within the pack. You may choose to stay and become a full member of the pack. You may choose to leave, your shifting being completely bound first, becoming effectively human at which point you will be monitored and any sign of your return to the crime world would result in your execution. Or you can choose to be directly executed." Pausing, he shrugs before turning his attention to the young woman, "No matter which choice he makes you may keep your place here with the full backing of the pack as you rebuild your life. Eric has already got the papers together so you can return to working at the museum if that is your choice. "

A flash of surprise registers in the younger man's face at the options. He can tell that it was unexpected. He can also smell that Soo Lin is surprised as well.

"I'll give you a few minutes to consider it." he tells the two before turning and going out the door after opening it. He can hear the two of them speaking, but focuses his attention elsewhere, not listening in on the conversation at hand, preferring to allow them their choice in private. He has other things to consider anyways.

A few minutes later she opens the door and motions for him to come back in. When he does so, he is not surprised to see the younger man standing at the window staring out.

"Soo Lin assures me that you will be a better Elder than those of the Black Lotus," he comments as he turns from the window, his voice gravely after so long unconscious and the venom that had ripped through his system.

He inclines his head, thinking that is really a simple one. He waits for the young man to continue.

"I would prefer to stay with my sister, however my skills are such finding a way to support myself would be difficult." He pauses looking out the window again before turning back to face him. There is emotion running deep behind those eyes, trying to break to the surface and failing, but it is there in his scent. The younger man had accepted the offer to stay and was just trying to figure out how to say so. Striding over to where he is at, the younger man bows low, offering his right wrist as he does so. "I would accept the offer to stay."

He smiles, unfastening his left sleeve and pressing his wrist to the younger man's as he gently slips into his mind. Calling on his abilities as an iota he carefully works the edges of his psyche, restoring some of them to the smoothness that came before the mind damage, removing the sharp edge that had occurred due to years of conditioning. This young man had never been part of a proper pack or family so there was no previous linking to overwrite.

"Welcome to the Watson Pack," he murmurs as he pulls him upright much to the younger man's surprise. "Speak with Jacob, I am certain he could find you proper work or training. There is a new moon in three days, the entire pack will be gathered, you two will need to attend to be formally welcomed into the pack. Daria can make sure a ride is arranged." He lets go of the younger man's arm and smiles at the two of them.

She stares at him with wide eyes, her scent full of shock at the ease of it all. She was not expecting it to go like that. Her brother hasn't moved as he stares, the pack link sinking into the empty space that he had probably always felt but never understood. He nods to the two of them before withdrawing, a murmured farewell the only thing said as he leave the pair to discuss their new future a bit more.

Heading down stairs he stops to speak with Nathan and Daria for a bit before the two of them return to his flat so she can pick up her pup and he can see what kind of trouble his potential bondmate is considering.


	27. Preparation for the Next Pack Meeting D2

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 27  
__John's POV  
_The trip back to the flat was quite with both of them being lost in thought. He was almost worried about what type of chaos he was going to arrive home to find. After paying the cabbie the two of them head upstairs just in time to hear a loud popping noise. Daria's eyes get awful wide as she glances at him before bolting up the remaining steps and shoving the lounge door open.

The entire flat is filled with smoke despite the fact the window is open. It has a peculiar smell somewhere between burnet carrots and pineapple which has them staring at the two dark haired men in the kitchen area by the stove. Both of them staring into the small pot sitting on it as it bubbles over a yellow-orange goo with a billowy fog rising from it as well. As the air clears he can also smell the baking soda and vinegar, answering the question of what they were doing.

"A volcano? Really?" he inquires as he starts chuckling. It is really rather amusing when you consider all of the options that the two of them have.

Jace turns towards him first, a smile lighting the younger shifters face, "That was fun!" he exclaims as he looks at the two of them, "Who would have ever thought of putting vinegar and baking soda together? We cooked some carrots and pineapples in some butter and then added the baking soda and vinegar and look at the lovely volcano it made. It was really pretty."

Daria looks like she can't tell if she is supposed to be mad or not as she takes in the mess that those two had made. "Help clean it up Jace, then we need to be going."

The younger shifter blushes, looking around for the cleaning supplies to help out. Sherlock stares at Daria for a moment before collecting up the cleaning stuff and readying it. A few moments later the two men are quickly cleaning everything though he is sure that he will have to sterilize it when all is said and done.

Doesn't matter, he thinks as he watches the younger men, one human and one shifter, as they get there clean up done. It is well worth it to see Jace smiling like that and Sherlock feeling more at ease with himself around another person.

Once it is all cleaned, Daria and Jace bid them farewell before they leave.

"Enjoy yourself?" he inquires of the taller man now sprawled out on the sofa.

"Yes, he's not boring." Comes his soft reply, a few minutes later after some companionable silence he remarks, "He's surprisingly bright for someone raised the way he was. He is a quick study and learning faster than any other person I have met outside my family."

Again there is a pause, this time a slightly confused look crosses the taller man's features as he walks over to where his violin rests. He watches as the dark-haired human lifts it and gently strums a bit before tilting his head to the side and asking, "Why does he seem to like just brushing against me?"

"Define 'brushing against me' Sherlock." He tells his flatmate as he waits for his answer.

The taller human carries his violin with him over to where he is standing before brushing their shoulders together once, just barely before returning to where he normally stands while he plays. "Like that. Why?"

Unfortunately, he is trying to bring his focus back in because the jolt that went through him at the touch. "What do you know about regular wolves?" he inquires when he gets his focus back.

For a moment the taller man continues to toy with his violin, strumming soft notes here and there before he answers, "A pack is lead by an alpha couple normally, either siblings or mated that tend to the needs of the pack. Generally the alpha female is in charge of making sure that the pups of the pack have everything they need including shelter, food, and affection-" his voice cuts out as his scent changes to realization. "I'm not female."

Chuckling, he remarks, "No you're not, but you are the alpha second which correlates to the alpha female position."

"Oh. So he was seeking affection from a higher ranking pack member then?"

He nods once in response, "Yes Sherlock, he was seeking affection from a higher ranking pack member. All of the pups will do that with you. Most the adults in the pack would to except I told them you are more like a great cat than a wolf since I noticed you tend not to be fond of physical touch."

Soft trilling notes escape the violin as the tall human considers it for a while. Eventually, he stops playing and asks, "It is one of my responsibilities is it not? Being affectionate to the pups?"

He had been seated in his chair but the distress that his potential bondmate was giving off nearly forced him to his feet. He had to comfort him, standing slowly, completely in control of his body, he walks over to where the taller human is standing and lays a gentle hand against the arm holding the violin bow. "Listen, you are human, not a wolf. So never feel that you have to do anything that comes with being a wolf. Just be yourself, it is more than enough. All the adults understand that you're like a great cat. Great cats might do affection but only on their terms, never on someone else's. The older pups understand that as well, only the younger ones do not. I had not realized that Jace was not aware or I would have Daria mention it to him before."

He pauses, searching the taller man's face for a sense of what he is thinking but coming up with nothing. Even his scent seems to be subdued as he thinks, thankfully though the distress is gone. "Do not worry about it, its completely your choice whether you are physically affection like that or not, and either way you are still a member of this pack."

The taller man nods once, then looks at the hand still resting on his arm. Flushing, he withdraws his touch before giving a small smile and muttering, "I'm going to bed, goodnight Sherlock."

"Goodnight John," comes the soft reply right before his tall flatmate goes back to softly playing the violin.

oOo

Morning comes far sooner than he wants for the somewhat tired alpha wolf. He had not slept all that well, his thoughts consumed with his human bondmate. Despite that, he had enjoyed listening to the soft lure of the violin even as he could not slumber. In the end he had shifted into his wolf form, stretching out on the floor of his room and relaxing. Now as he becomes aware that he slept as a wolf he shifts to his human form as he stretches, enjoying the play of muscles.

After collecting his things up he heads into the bathroom to get cleaned up before starting his day. He has the next four days off because all the regular staff are at the clinic, but he is alright with that. There are things that need to be dealt with. From the list he had made the previous day he had already arranged to deal with the Devon pack and spoke with the Yao siblings, so what did that leave him? Eric, Mycroft, and Greg, his mind supplied him. Deal with Mycroft after the new moon, he decides, because that will probably take more focus than he cares to attempt to pull together right now. So either deal with Eric or Greg. Which will be easier? Greg. Then deal with him.

Decision made, he finishes his absent minded shower before going to make coffee and breakfast as he does every morning. While cooking, he glances around for his flatmate and is mildly surprised to see him napping on the sofa rather than in his bed. He is sure that he is napping by the fact he is curled on his side, eyes closed, breath even, soft snores occasionally escaping his lips.

He's simply adorable, his mind tells him as he studies the sleeping human. In sleep his edges seem to be far less sharp than they are when he is awake. Shaking his head, he pulls his mind away from his base thoughts and goes back to cooking. When he is done, he makes up his plate and a second small sampler plate that he carries over to the sleeping man. For a moment he debates about waking him but the debate becomes moot when Sherlock's light colored eyes slowly flicker open and he sits up, yawning slightly.

"What time is it?" the tall human mumbles as he glances out the window.

"Just past seven," he replies setting the plate down on the table in front of his flatmate before fetching their teas.

Gingerly, as if unsure if he really wants to or not, Sherlock takes the fork and pokes at the food for a bit while he is eating. He does not actually expect the tall human to eat it but he figures he will offer it anyways just in case he decides to try a bite or two. Its not surprising when he does not, instead drinking his tea slowly, a small smile curving the younger man's lips.

"I'm bored," that same younger man mutters as he finishes his tea.

Chuckling, he sends a text off to Eric before answering.

-Do you have plans for today?- JW

-Bored.- the phone buzzes, followed shortly by, -No. Why? Is there something interesting to do?- Tech

"How would you feel about doing a hunt with Eric?" he inquires of the tall human, glancing up from his phone.

A curious look crosses his human's features, "A hunt?"

Nodding he explains, "Well both you and Eric are bored, he keeps complaining that there is no one in this city that can hide from him when he is hunting, or even give him a good sparing match. So I thought that you might appreciate pitting yourself against him. The both of you are intelligent enough to have creative ways of doing things. Of course the pack link would not be usable during the hunt, but you could see how long it takes him to track you or vice versa."

If he was a lesser man the gleam that entered the tall humans eyes would have been scary. Instead it merely sent a chill down his spine.

"What would be the rules?" he demands, leaning forward and listening intently.

"No permanently harming each other, no killing each other, otherwise free form." Comes his soft reply. It was an idea he had considered a few weeks back but this was the first time he had thought to bring it up.

"I'll do it. When does it start?" his tall flatmate response jumping to his feet and heading into his room, his scent full of excitement.

-Feel like hunting Sherlock? No killing or permanently harming him, anything else goes.- JW

-When does it start?- Tech

He is just about to answer when his phone chirps again.

-I won't even use the computers.- Tech

Sherlock comes prancing out of his room, all giddy at the idea of a challenge, and dressed in one of his lesser suits. "Well?"

He smiles at the impatient human, answering, "As soon as you leave I will notify him. From there its up to you two what happens."

Nodding, the hyper human grabs his coat and leaves the flat without saying anything else.

_Elspeth, cobra is hunting Sherlock so do not interfere between them, protect him from anything else__**.**_ He tells the multiform cat that he can feel just outside of his flat.

_**Of course,**_ she replies.

-He's on the move.- JW

-Good.- Tech

Once Sherlock and Eric are off playing their game of hide and seek, he glances at the clock to see that over an hour had passed. So he takes the time to text Greg.

-Are you busy today?- JW

-Paper work only, back logging I need to get done. Why?- DIL

-Wished to speak to you of about a pack matter- JW

-If you do not mind being in the office, I can talk while doing paperwork.- DIL

-Be there in half hour.- JW

With the meeting arranged, he cleans up from breakfast before heading out. Not feeling like shielding he uses a taxi to get to New Scotland Yard. Along the way he has the cabbie stop so he can purchase two fresh coffees before continuing on. Upon getting there he passes through the office without saying anything to most of the detectives and those on staff. Sally Donovan avoids his gaze when he spots her, turning instead to look at one of the other people in the room. At Greg's office door he knocks twice before entering, glancing about with ease at the pile of files everywhere.

"I thought you might like some real coffee," he tells the slightly older jackal-child.

Accepting the coffee and taking a sip, he sighs in relief, "You're a godsend John. Go ahead and close the door."

Reaching behind him, he shoves it shut as he takes a seat in the chair closer to the desk, "Not sure about that. Are you sure that this is not going to disturb you?"

The other man shakes his head, taking another drink of the coffee. "I'm certain, what would you like to talk about? You mentioned the pack."

Setting his cup down on a piece of desk without papers on it was a challenge, but he eventually did so. Once that was done he leans forward slightly, his tone serious as he inquires, "Would you like to be part of the Watson pack?"

It is probably a good thing he waited until the older man set his drink down before asking because the surprise of it made him drop his papers even as he stare hard at John. His scent was full of disbelief, a little bit of hope, shock, and a touch of confusion. "But I'm human." He mutters in response, still staring.

He inclines his head in acknowledgement before remarking, "Indeed you are, but you are also a jackal-child, a decent person, and someone I would be proud to have within the pack." He smiles at the older man, before commenting, "Think it through, you do not have to answer me today. I just wanted to extend the invitation."

The jackal-child nods a couple of times, his mind lost in thought. John is actually considering leaving when he comments, "I would."

Smiling, he unfastens his coat and shirt sleeves, pushing them up so his left wrist is exposed and waiting for Greg to do the same with his dominate hand. A moment later he does so, offering his arm rather hesitantly. "I've not been bonded to the pack before," the jackal-child murmurs as he stares at him. Giving a small shake of his head he accepts the touch between wrists and feels the power surge between them.

A slow smirk curves his lips as he states, "You might have presented as a shifter had you been bonded, the energy is there beneath the surface though I doubt you will develop it now. That is something that has to be done in the early years of life. However you will probably slow down on aging now."

"You mean like how all the shifters in my family seem to not age as fast?" Greg asks him as the two release the others wrists and fasten their shirt sleeves up.

"Yep," he nods, "exactly like that. There is a pack meeting in two days at the Watson pack Estate. You are more than welcome to come, a set of directions will be sent out to everyone the morning of to make sure they can find their way there, Jacob also arranges for any rides for those who do not want to take a taxi or have other ways to get there."

"Jacob?" the older man repeats questioningly.

"I'm the alpha as you already know, then our pack is odd in it has two non-bonded betas. The first is Jacob a falcon, the second is Eric a black cobra. My sister does some of the beta work but she prefers not to since her recent bonding. After that rank tends to get blurry because we merged two packs together, and a third is getting ready to join ours though not exactly willingly." He explains to the other man, before taking another drink of his coffee.

For a little bit he merely watches as the older man does paper work, he is considering whether to explain more about the pack or not and has just decided it might be a good idea when Greg pipes up with, "I had a talk with Mycroft Holmes about the clans a few days back. He was expressing his concern for the fact Sherlock keeps vanishing. I suggested he speak with you, politely, not any of his normal kidnapping business."

Shaking his head a bit, he chuckles, "Well I guess that means I better move him up in the list of things to deal within the next few weeks. You did reassure him that the pack protects their own right?"

He nods, "I did, he seemed to understand but he really wanted to question me and I made it clear I was not going to answer questions because he is not clan."

Shaking his head, his chuckle turns to a full out laugh at the idea of someone turning Mycroft Holmes down when something is demand but it is reassuring to him at the same time. "I'm sorry," he mutters when he finally catches his breath, "but the idea is just too amusing."

The two of them visit for a bit more before he finally says he needs to go and the jackal-child promises to be at the meeting in two days time.


	28. Preparation for the Next Pack Meeting D3

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

If anyone is interested I have a picture of Jace and Eric posted on the deviantart account now

_**Warning: **_ mention of violence and abuse

* * *

_Chapter 28  
__John's POV  
_He did not hear from Sherlock or Eric for the rest of the day. Had he not known that Elspeth the Spathi would protect his human at all costs he would have been more concerned.

His human, he grumbled to himself. He wasn't his anything at this point and it really was his own fault that the two of them had not gotten past being potential bondmates and not full bondmates. However he was determined that Sherlock be adjust to pack life and accepted as himself before ever considering saying a word to him. Besides, the man was brilliant, there was always a good chance that he would figure it out on his own. Particularly since his annoying iota had given away a lot of hints to the tall human.

Shaking his head he gets his laptop out and takes the time to go through all of the information on it. Despite the fact the cobra is out hunting he has still had his computer going and making sure that there are no threats to the pack. It's not actually surprising when he considers how often the younger shifter multitasks, his mind far too fast for most to keep up with him. Once he is done checking the pack news and relations he opens the files that the cobra had sent him about the Devon pack members.

The next several hours are spent in quiet reflection as he learns about each of the new pack members. There are twenty seven left from the original pack including the pups, eight of that number are the pups. Most the pack was low level members. All of the high ranking ones had been foolish enough to go along with the previous alpha and his abuse of Jace. From what he can tell Jace had been the only child to be abused as such. However, the four adults that Daria has in her custody had been repeatedly abused as well, though not in such a horrid fashion.

Of the newest pack members most were going to return to their regular lives, they would only have to deal with pack matters when he summoned them, otherwise, like their previous pack they would be on their own and allowed to have the small gathers that they already did. Some of them though had a harsh set of punishment coming to them.

At the top of that list was Jenna, the wolf mother of Jace who had disowned him as soon as she realized that the iota was not going to be able to force his father's elite blood into submission. Her actions had cause Jace to be unprotected when he needed his mother to support him. She had also broken the bond with his father shortly before his father had died in a car accident that was suggested wasn't actually an accident. From the moment she had disowned the small child he had been at the non-exsistant mercy of the alpha and his upper pack members.

The second one on the list was Talos, the pack iota who had allowed all of this to happen. The only reason he was not already dead was he had not been there when John, Trace, and Damian had been in a killing mood. He had tried to hide but Jacob had tracked him down and tagged him. The dumb bastard should feel lucky that it was the falcon who had done so, because the cobra would not have left him alive or would have left him so broken that there would be no chance at redemption for him.

The last one he planned to make an example of was Michael. The pack omicron who had definitely not done his duty judging by the state that the pack was in. it was his job to make sure that the emotional balance of the pack was maintained and there was no way in hell what had happened to Jace and those other four qualified even remotely as the balance being maintained.

As he considered what to do with them he decided that he would hand the punishment of Jenna and Talos over to Daria to do with as she wants. As pack iota and bondmother to Jace it was well within her rights. Michael would be given over to Jeffery the packs old omicron who would deal with him appropriately. After deciding what to do with the ones that he feels needs to be dealt with, he checks the clock and is surprised to see that it is after midnight.

Shaking his head, he goes to bed, but leaves his door cracked so he can hear it when Sherlock gets back a few hours later.

oOo

It is sometime around two in the morning his eyes flickered partially open as he hears something on the steps to his room, keeping them mostly shut, he observes as his tall flatmate steps inside his doorway for just a minute before heading back downstairs. A few minutes later he hears the soft drawl of the violin, its tones questioning and mildly confused.

Sighing, he stretches out and yawns, heading downstairs to see if everything is alright with his human. "Just getting in?" he inquires as a way of greeting as he stops at the landing between the living room and the stairs.

The violin pauses for a moment as its player nods before resuming his soft melody. Going over to the sofa, he stretches out and listens, before deciding that maybe he should give his flatmate a chance to get used to his wolf form when not riding him so he gets back up and takes off his shirt and sleeping pants, leaving on only his pants before shifting. Once in wolf form he walks calmly to the door, shutting it, before going over to lay on the floor next to the sofa. Stretching out, he rests his head on his paws as he watches the human continue to play for a while longer, his eyes closed.

He knows the instance the dark-haired human opens his eyes because the music suddenly stops. Lifting his head he watches curiously as his human sets the violin down before slowly walking towards him, his scent full of curiosity.

"May I?" the human softly asks, motioning towards his fur..

_**Of course, I did promise you a chance to touch my fur to your heart's content if you will recall.**_ He answers softly, using one large paw to shove the small table sideways.

The next couple hours are spent with Sherlock touching his fur, hands carefully moving over nearly every inch he can reach. There is something there within his touch that calls to him, lulls him into an almost sleep. Eventually, his tall human lays on the sofa, one long finger hand carding through his fur on the back of his neck as he slowly drifts off. When morning comes he awakes to those same fingers curled tightly into his fur as soft puffs of breath escape him in little snores. He watches for a while, merely relaxing and waits until his human awakes before he finally moves.

The first sign that Sherlock has awoken is the fact those finger leave his fur. The second sign is the scent of embarrassment that fills the area as his human shifts to a sitting position.

Shifting, he stretches out as the muscles change and contort. "Morning Sherlock," he murmurs as he collects up his clothing and heads upstairs to collect his things for his morning shower. He is pretty certain that his flatmate is in overdrive so he is giving him the space needed to process everything.

After his shower, he texts Eric and asks him to stop by or met him somewhere because he would like a word with him before the next pack meeting. He is not surprised by the lack of answer and the cobra showing up a short while later, his dark hair spiked for a change rather than laying flat as it normally does.

"You wished to speak?" he queries, his voice lower than normal, closer to a hiss than he usual would allow.

Nodding, he motions to the kitchen since his tall flatmate is stretched out on the sofa in his thinking poise with his hand steepled beneath his chin as he stares at the ceiling unseeing.

Presenting his left wrist to the shifter in the traditional greeting, he is not surprised when the cobra studies him for a moment before unfastening his sleeve to echo the motion. The contact is brief, not long enough for him to get a read on the other shifters mood.

"What is going on between you and the pup Jace?" he inquires without hesitation, not bothering to try small talk first knowing that it would be pointless. "You avoid physical contact unless it is during a hunt or sparing match, yet Daria has mentioned that he leans into you more than anyone else."

The cobra shrugs, barely moving but completely fluid in his grace as he responds, "He seems to be reassured by my presence, I am not unaware that his needs vary from mine. Personally, I do not care one way or another for the affection," he pauses, closing his eyes for a moment, "it is unusual, it does not bother me, but I do not seek it out."

Frowning he considers the other shifters response and tries to determine the reasoning behind it. Cobra's are well known for their dislike of contact from anyone but family and bondmates. Even within a family the amount of contact can be very small, nearly non-existent. The only thing he can think is they are bondmates, but wait, neither are marked. Of course Jace has not finished growing and those marks do not always show on those still developing.

"May I see your wrist?" he eventually asks, waiting patiently for the cobra's answer.

Black eyes narrow at him as he deftly pulls his sleeve up and presents his left wrist, the edge of violence in his motions.

Barely touching the other shifter, he carefully calls to the iota gifts deep within him, sending a small tendril of power through to the other shifter and carefully feeling his life force for any sort of outside gifting. At this point there is nothing there, at least nothing new. He can feel the parental bond between him and Aiden, feel the same type of bond to two more shifters, both female. He can feel the raw, jagged edge from where he and his bondmate had snapped the link that tied them together. He can feel the various wounds caused by the deaths of his birth denmates, the gaping wounds to his spirit that had only been partly healed by the placing of a new den link.

Slowly he pulls out of the link, releasing his wrist but not moving as he watches the violence in the other shifter as he forces his natural dislike of contact down.

"Find what you were seeking?" the hiss is low, a tremble of pure fury that is barely contained.

"Eric," his voice is soft, though he is not sure what he really wants to say. Before he can say anything more the tall shifter refastens his sleeve, bows low once and leaves. A large part of him wishes to try and comfort his upset packmate, it is natural reaction as a wolf but he suppresses it, knowing it will help nothing. Instead he reaches for Elspeth, _Are you on watcher duty or did you take a day off?_

_The senior insisted I take a day off, the multiform canine is on watcher duty today. Why is there something my particular skill set is needed for?_ She replies almost instantly and he is reminded that like Eric and Sherlock she gets bored easily though not with quite the destructive tendencies those two present.

_I believe that our cobra needs a good fight. The lets break bones kind of fight. _He answers her, not giving an order only a suggestion. Besides himself, Jacob, and Hyder none of the other pack members can even keep up with the cobra when fighting. While she is not as fast, she is resourceful and refuses to allow his speed to be the deciding factor in any matches that they have.

A chuckle fills the link as she replies, _Are you suggesting I pick a fight with the most volatile member of our den? _She pauses a moment before he gets the impression of a smile. _Or is that permission to continue our last match as long as we are not seen?_

_Take it as you will, if either of you get injured call me not Daria. _He answers, knowing that she is already getting her things together to hunt the other shifter. Those two have a long standing debate on whether her ability to think equals his and his speed. It was at a stalemate last he knew. Nothing else is said and he shakes his head, making breakfast for himself and his thoughtful human.

oOo

Several hours pass with him working on his blog, the flat, and just generally relaxing. He had not been able to get his tall flatmate to eat but he was not surprised. As a rule Sherlock did not like to eat a lot so the fact he had gotten him to eat two small meals the day before had been a major bonus to him. Instead, he was able to get him to drink a cup of sweetened tea when he had finally come out of his mind and before he had turned to working on an experiment in the kitchen.

It was just a little bit after dinner when the scent of blood reaches his nose, he is reacting before he even has a chance to consider it, tugging the flat door open to the sight of Eric cradling an unconscious Elspeth in his arms.

_She said to come to you, _he comments, not speaking aloud because then he would both smell and taste the blood in the air.

"Bring her up," he mutters, taking the steps two at a time a head of the taller shifter. As soon as they are in the flat he feels the ripple of power as the shielding that prevents humans from seeing them is dropped. Studying the pair his eyes carefully take in the damage. Apparently it had went from their normally who's better to a full out bloodbath judging by the amount of damage to both. "Sherlock, please grab the first aid kit." He directs his startled flatmate who is staring at the two of them as they drip blood on the hardwood floors.

Without waiting to see if he listens or not, he touches his left hand against her throat, sinking his power into the multiform cat, cataloging each and every one of her injuries. Whatever occurred between the two of them was not pretty he decides as he notes six broken ribs, every bone in her right wrist is dust, part of her throat is collapsed, a punctured lung, and several other minor injuries. Frowning, he starts to mend the most pressing damage first, that to her lung and throat before moving on to the rest.

When her eyes flutter open she hisses at the cobra holding her, and he gracefully lets her feet hit the ground before stepping back. There is still blood dripping from several of his wounds.

_Really you two, _he mutters at them mentally as he continues to work on her wrist. Once everything is set in place but before he has a chance to work on her ribs she inclines her head politely before turning and leaving, shifting and healing in that manner as she goes.

Sherlock had just returned with the kit when he notices that she is gone. "Wasn't there two of them?" he inquires, his scent full of shock.

Nodding, he replies, "Yeah, Spathi took off as soon as she was no longer dying in typical style. Don't even bother considering to do the same, shirt off and sit." He directs the taller shifter.

Black eyes narrow at him, as he does as directed, frowning when he sees the shape his shirt is in. _Damn it. I liked this one._

_What the hell happened between you two? Normally between you two the injuries are not the deadly kind. _He responds as he starts to use the peroxide on the open wound in his shoulder blade where it looks like her claws ripped through the muscle.

_She startled me, I did not take it very well. Granted though, prior to getting a hold of her throat she was winning. _Comes the caustic reply. _You sent her after me, why?_

He shrugs as he keeps working, well aware of his bondmate hovering not that far away and watching with keen eyes. _You needed to release the stress. She was the best choice I could think of for how to get you to relax. I had not meant to enrage you earlier, there was no accusations within my questioning, just curiosity and concern. For both of you._

No response is forthcoming as he continues to work, moving to stand behind him for a moment as he moves to clean the lower injury, "Sherlock, do you have a small amount of acid? Something organic, not chemical based, not mixed with anything?" he inquires as he realizes he is going to have to take off three of the scales where his shoulder meets his neck because of the damage to them.

His tall human vanishes for a minute to come back with a small beaker of something greenish in coloring, taking a sniff he identifies it before carefully using the scooper to dust the scale with it. A low his escapes the cobra he is working on as he hands the acid back, carefully taking the scales off with the knife in the medical kit. Once they are off, he carefully picks them up with some twesers, before placing them in trash. Almost all the rest of the wounds he has will heal with a good sift.

"Shift," he directs the cobra as he carefully checks him once more.

Standing gracefully, Eric's body morphs without a word as he goes from the slender human to the massively black cobra. Turning, those hypnotic black eyes blink at him once, waiting patiently, or as patiently as he ever does while John finishes restoring the scales that had to be removed. A moment later, he is back in his human form, his hood flared out in aggravation.

_Thank you,_ the cobra tells him before heading out without saying anything aloud.

Sighing, he gets to work cleaning the flat of all the blood, making sure to open the windows so the smell can be cleared away. He is mildly surprised when his tall human joins him the cleaning even though he does not say anything. Sherlock's light colored eyes are far away as he works, he is sure that there will be questions once he is done processing.


	29. Thoughtful Days

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 29  
__Sherlock's POV  
_When Jace and Daria first arrived at the flat he was not sure why they were there. As far as he knew there was no reason for them to be there. Unless John wanted a word with the viper, then she would have brought Jace because she rarely leaves him on his own. Giving an internal shake of his head, he decides to start a rather mundane conversation about how the teenager's education is going. He is rather shocked to learn that he has taken an interest in science and math since he had started working with the tutors. Luckily he already knew how to read, so it was only the other subjects that he had to catch up on since he had not previously been allowed to go to school or anywhere near books.

So when John and the viper leave he gets a bright idea, Jace likes science, so why not make a volcano on the stove? With a mischievous smile he searches the kitchen until he finds the baking soda and vinegar, then tries considering what to use as coloring and to make the lava chunks. Jace is actually the one who suggests the cans of carrots and pineapple pieces he finds when looking to see if there is something to eat. Its perfect. He can snack on some of them and the rest can be used for the lava coloring and pieces.

Within a few minutes after the younger man eats they are standing over the stove mixing the baking soda and vinegar over the pieces of carrots and pineapples at the bottom. He is concerned that they will not get very good pressure so he makes sure that they put more than is suggested in it to ensure that it works. Then the two of them stand back watch as it bubbles, fizzes, and explodes.

Since this was a science project he got Jace a notebook and pen so he could record everything. Apparently that was the right thing to do because the teen was ecstatic as they worked on it.

For some reason that he would have to check with John about the teen kept bumping him, the first time he did it, the detective thought it was an accident, so he started keeping an eye out for it and realized that it was intentional. Why would a person who was abused in the manner he had been want to be touched? Wasn't that opposite of how most victims acted? It will require thought, and maybe asking John.

It was rather late when his flatmate got back with the viper, and the experiment had just finished up. There was nothing else coming out of the pot any more. The last thing it had done was emitted a surprisingly loud popping noise as the last bit of baking soda finally burst after applying heat to it. Somewhere along the way the front windows were opened to allow fresh air to circulate since there was a deep fog of carrot and pineapple smoke from where some of it burnt to the pan and the volcano as well.

John had seemed amused luckily enough, when the shorter man had first entered the flat, he had suddenly been concerned about how it was going to be taken. He was thankful that it seemed to not fall in the Not Good category. When Jace is told to help clean up,. he breaks his rule of never cleaning in order to help him. After all, the teen really does not need to be forced to clean up after someone else when he had lots of help making the mess. Once it is done, the two bid them a good night before leaving.

Almost as soon as they leave he sprawls out on the sofa considering the situation. He had planned to spend the afternoon in his Mind Palace but had surprisingly enough enjoyed himself with the pup.

"Enjoy yourself?" his short flatmate inquires as he sets fresh teas down the small table between them.

Sitting up, he takes the tea and sips at it while he considers his answer, "Yes, he's not boring." It is actually fairly shocking how not boring the pup actually is. After all, what actually makes him interesting? It cannot be his background, his background is horrid and gives him absolutely no advantages. Sure he is now living with the viper couple, but that has only been for a few weeks and really has no impact either. Must be something innately about him them. "He's surprisingly bright for someone raised the way he was. He is a quick study and learning faster than any other person I have met outside my family." He eventually comments as he stands up.

He is rather certain that there is confusion on his features but he says nothing as he grabs his Strad and strums it for a little while before finally inquiring about the real point of confusion for him. "Why does he seem to like just brushing against me?"

His shorter flatmate narrows his eyes as he considers the question, then lightly demands, "Define 'brushing against me' Sherlock."

Dropping his violin from his shoulder he confidently strides over to where john is standing since putting the tea cups up and brushes his shoulder against him in the same manner the pup had been doing his. Or at least as close as he can get since he is several inches taller. He watches and catalogues John's reaction as he moves back to his music stand, replacing the violin on his shoulder as he murmurs, "Like that."

He is intrigued by the fact that his flatmate seems to catch his breath at the contact, eyes widening ever so slightly as if he is attracted to him. It takes him a moment to find his voice it seems, "What do you know about regular wolves?"

It is not the answer he is expecting, but he carefully considers his information because he had looked it up upon discovering that John was a shifter who turned into a wolf. He hadn't known if the information would even be useful but he still learned it in case it was. While he considers how to answer, he absently plays with the violin, coaxing soft notes out of it as he draws the information from his Mind Palace. "A pack is lead by an alpha couple normally, either siblings or mated that tend to the needs of the pack. Generally the alpha female is in charge of making sure that the pups of the pack have everything they need including shelter, food, and affection-" he stops talking as he realizes what he is saying. The alpha second is the alpha mate or alpha female, so how could he be the alpha second? "I'm not female."

A husky chuckle escapes the blonde man as he remarks, "No you're not, but you are the alpha second which correlates to the alpha female position."

If he is the alpha second doesn't that make him John's mate? No. John's sibling, his mind supplies, he has a bondmate and it is not me. At least, I don't think it is me. I would be able to tell if it was me. He thinks as he considers the statement, never considering the fact that emotions are not his strong suit and maybe he would be able to tell but maybe he wouldn't too. "Oh. So he was seeking affection from a higher ranking pack member then?" he eventually comments, not sure what else to say.

John takes a seat in his chair, nodding once as he answers, "Yes Sherlock, he was seeking affection from a higher ranking pack member. All of the pups will do that with you. Most the adults in the pack would to except I told them you are more like a great cat than a wolf since I noticed you tend not to be fond of physical touch."

Returning to playing his violin for a bit, he considers this information. John is right, he does not like physical touch, to him it is used as a means of control, of persuasion. It should never be used lightly. It probably does not help that most contact can send his mind into overload because he is not sure how to deal with it, and is always trying to figure out what the contact means, because there is always a hidden meaning. Even among the wolves there is meaning to the touch, either comfort or acceptance, but still more than just being.

He now belongs to a wolf pack, perhaps he should try getting used to touching, at least a little bit. Eyes narrow he stops playing for a bit to query, "It is one of my responsibilities is it not? Being affectionate to the pups?" the idea scares him, how is he supposed to do something he knows nothing about.

Apparently his nervousness about the idea is easily read by his short flatmate who quickly stands and comes over to where he is standing, laying one small hand against his bow arm but barely touching it. His voice is very earnest as the blonde speaks, "Listen, you are human, not a wolf. So never feel that you have to do anything that comes with being a wolf. Just be yourself, it is more than enough. All the adults understand that you're like a great cat. Great cats might do affection but only on their terms, never on someone else's. The older pups understand that as well, only the younger ones do not. I had not realized that Jace was not aware or I would have Daria mention it to him before."

For some reason he finds his breath has caught in his throat and he cannot seem to answer, he is willing to be affectionate to the pup, it hadn't bothered him too much, he just does not know how. Before he is able to find his voice again, John's eyes carefully lock with his before the shorter man remarks, "Do not worry about it, its completely your choice whether you are physically affection like that or not, and either way you are still a member of this pack."

He nods, thankful that it will not be held against him that he does not know how to be more wolf like. Glancing down at John's hand he considers why it does not bother him that his hand is touching him. According to the flush of John's face, he had forgotten that he had his hand on his arm. As the shorter man withdraws, he murmurs, "I'm going to bed, goodnight Sherlock."

A ghost of a smile curves his lips as he replies, "Goodnight John," before returning to playing his violin. There is a lot for him to consider.

Over the next few hours he keeps the melodies he plays light and soft as he thinks about his reaction to John's touch. Why doesn't it bother him and send him into overload the way most people's touch does? It is not like the shorter man does it often enough for him to be adjusted.

Wait. Maybe he does. Nearly every time John hands him his plate or cup he brushes their fingers together. At first it would send a shiver through him but now he looked forward to those little touches, particularly since he had realized that his flatmate was not even aware of doing them. It's because he is a wolf, his mind supplies, you heard him. Like the canines they turn into the shifter variety enjoys being touched just as much. But I do not outrank him, his mind questions. No, but the alpha shows affection to all pack members to show they are accepted, that is all it is.

Sighing, he eventually stops playing sometime around five a.m. according to his internal clock. After putting his violin down, he sprawls on the sofa, considering that fact. Eventually he starts to feel tired but does not want to go in his cold room when he is rather comfortable on the sofa. His mind is still buzzing but he allows himself to drift off. The smell of food cooking is what wakes him, and as he slowly sits up he inquires, "What time is it?" to make sure that his internal clock is still accurate.

As the blonde sets a small plate in front of him, he is answered, "Just past seven."

Good, he thinks, its still right. Sleeping sometimes messed it up for reasons he still had not figured out. While John sits down and starts eating, he pokes at his small plate of food with the provided fork. It smells funny. No way is he going to eat it. Eventually, he pushes it aside and lifts the tea cup instead, enjoying the sweet flavor of it.

In order to keep him interested in the tea, his short flatmate had a tendency to change flavors at random intervals so it was rarely expected which flavor he would get. Then he would add various spices to it, so even if he could identify the base type, he still had to take his time to determine what the extras were. It was brilliant, a bit frustrating because he never turned down the challenge as long as he was not lost in thought, but still brilliant.

"I'm bored," he mutters as he finishes his tea, falling back on the sofa again and looking up at the spray painted yellow smiley face on the wall.

His flatmate smiles gamily, grabbing his mobile and texting someone. Now that's different he thinks, normally he would be trying to think of something to keep him occupied. "How would you feel about doing a hunt with Eric?" the shorter man asks after his mobile.

"A hunt?" he repeats, curious as to what that means.

Nodding the pack alpha explains, "Well both you and Eric are bored, he keeps complaining that there is no one in this city that can hide from him when he is hunting, or even give him a good sparing match. So I thought that you might appreciate pitting yourself against him. The both of you are intelligent enough to have creative ways of doing things. Of course the pack link would not be usable during the hunt, but you could see how long it takes him to track you or vice versa."

What an intriguing idea. Why didn't he think of it? he wonders as he leans forward, bracing his elbows against his legs as he demands, "What would be the rules?" his attention is solely on John as he waits for the answer.

"No permanently harming each other, no killing each other, otherwise free form." His flatmates voice is soft as he replies.

He barely remembers to answer as he jumps to his feet and walks across the small table, heading towards his room, "I'll do it. When does it start?" he wants to change into real clothes for this, not his lounging clothes. While he is changing he hears John's mobile chirp at him several more times before he comes out dressed in one of his favorite chase suits, demanding, "Well?" because he is impatient to begin. This sounds like so much fun.

Smiling, John replies, "As soon as you leave I will notify him. From there its up to you two what happens."

He nods, grabbing his coat and bolting out the door without saying anything else. Where to go? First of consider who he is currently trying to hide from, he has an excellent sense of smell, access to the CCTV's, and probably his own watchers since he seems to keep a close eye on John. The sewers, he thinks, would be a perfect place to start. Particularly the catacomb systems where there are no cameras and the amount of other smells is wide and varied though not a lot of feces. For the next several hours he moves from place to place, always sticking to areas without cameras and where there are other people in order to hide his scent.

It is just about three hours later when his instincts tell him to run now so he does. Moments later he understands why as the cobra appears out of nowhere behind him, and he dodges down a side alley, taking to climbing a fire escape to see if he can put more distance between himself and his pursuer. Upon reflection, he possibly should have not tried that, because snakes climb just as well, if not better than humans and he is just reach the top, when suddenly he is hauled onto the roof by his shoulder.

Lashing out the way John had showed him, he twists within the hold, aiming for the tender spot that is the power pool on the cobra's wrist, only the snake is faster. However it gains him what he wants, release from the hold. Eyes quickly take in everything, finding himself a weapon would be a bright idea about now, he thinks. Ah, that will work, he decides as he spots a piece of wood leaning against the side of the heat duck top. Sprinting, he dives towards it just as the taller man nearly connects with a heavy punch. The board is in his hands the next moment and he is swinging, but the cobra is faster, at least in that instant since in the next he is successful.

He hasn't any idea how long they go back and forth with blows. All he knows is it is thrilling and he is definitely not bored. Eventually though, he finds himself pinned to the wall, hands and feet immobile, breathing not all that easy with an arm pressed against his throat.

A smirk on his opponents face as he remarks, "I think I like you," he drops him, making sure that he does not injure him as he hits the ground. "Care to try and track me or would you like a chance to try outwitting me?"

Coughing for a moment, he gets slowly to his feet and studies the cobra as he leans against the edge of the roof lazily.

"Give me a minute to catch my breath." He mutters in response, considering the options. How had he managed to stay hidden for as long as he had? Perhaps they could discuss this before going on to round two. "How did you find me?" he eventually asks as he straightens his shirt collar and scarf.

The smirk shifts to a pleasant smile, a small bottle of water is tossed his way from he has no idea where, as the cobra replies, "You looped once to many in this area, so I stopped tracking for a moment to separate the scents until I realized you were closer than I thought." He pauses shrugging, "it took far longer than I thought it would. Nor did you do horribly for a human facing off against someone faster and stronger."

He nods, considering that and calls up a map in his mind, surprised to see he had crossed this area a total of four times, it was the only area he had done so with. Why? Because he was most familiar with this area, it is the area he had spent too much time in during his using days. Ah.

"Will you need nourishment past the water? I will not be yipped at by the pack iotas for you not eating properly during our game." The cobra inquires.

"Iotas?" he repeats, he had only met the one, the viper, was there one among the wolves that he had not realized was an iota?

"The viper is the active one, however our den has a total of three of them, including one of the wolves, not that I would let some stranger touch me if I need healed, and our elder, though he does not use his gifts as often, and I think he is more of a thera than iota." Eric replies, pulling a small package out of his pocket and tossing it towards him.

He automatically catches it, not considering that if it was someone outside of the pack he would worry about what it was. Turning over his hand, he is surprised to see a high vitamin granola bar, homemade according to the looks of it and its packaging. Frowning, he gives the cobra a curious look but does not ask aloud.

The other man shrugs, "I have a hard time with most foods, the smells, textures, and tastes bother me, so Daria created those for me while we were in Afghanistan as a way to keep up with what she saw as my needs since I tend to ignore my body."

Carefully, he opens it up and takes a sniff, he understands perfectly about problems with food. It was part of the reason he tended not to eat a lot. Cautiously, he takes a small bite, surprised that it actually tastes moderately decent. Shrugging, he eats the rest of it, before tucking the wrapper into a trash can that he can see by the buildings fire escape.

"I would like a chance to try and catch you," he tells the cobra.

He nods once, before turning and vaulting over the edge of the building and out of sight.

It takes him almost six hours to find the cobra, and another hour past that to actually get a drop on him long enough to end the match. End result was he shoved him in front of a moving car. He was pretty certain that there would be no lasting damage but afterwards he worried that it was a Bit Not Good until he found the cobra leaning against a building on the other side of the street laughing even as he holds his side.

"That's it," the taller man mutters as he joins him, "I don't think I like you, I know it. Of course, you need to learn how to fight elites, we're not like regular shifters. I think John was not considering that when he showed you how to deal with our kind."

He smirks at the other man, pleased to have managed catching him off guard and that he wasn't seriously injured.

"I think you may have busted a rib with that stunt, I will remember it for later so it will not happen again." His scaled companion mutters as his fingers gently press against his side. "Care for another round? We're currently tied."

He doesn't even answer past a smile as he takes off, hoping onto a passing bus and the chase is on again. He cannot recall the last time he had had this much fun.

oOo

Just after half one in the morning the cobra catches him again, this time winning by catching his jaw in his hands and freezing him in place with a carefully placed push to the side of his jaw and the nerves there. Once released he stares in shock at the taller man, startled that he had so successfully caught him.

However he also notices that he is beginning to get drowsy from all the running and adrenaline he had been using throughout the day. "I think I am done for now," he comments after catching his breath.

The cobra inclines his head once and the two of them head towards Baker Street which is just a few blocks away. "This time I only caught you because of that fool who you startled."

"Really?" he inquires, pleased that he had been doing so well at hiding and avoiding the cobra.

"Yep," comes the soft reply as they stop in front of his building, "If you get bored again, we should have another match," he tells him before turning and vanishing into the night.

Shaking his head, he unlocks the door and listens for a moment, paying close attention to the sounds of the flat. It seems that John is in bed, he thinks as he takes in the fact all but one light is off, and he can hear his flatmate upstairs. Silently making his way up the steps he by passes the living area, and continues on to John's room. He is mildly startled that John had left his room door slightly ajar but slips in and just observes him for a moment before deciding to head downstairs to play the violin.

His emotions are in chaos, he thinks as he considers the day. It was so different to be accepted without question for his personality and self. There was a sense of belonging that he could barely understand. He had never belonged. While he had two siblings his elder had left him behind and forgot him until he started causing problems, the other had been kept away from him until he didn't seem to remember that there were three brothers in the family, not two. Their mother had hated him after his father's death. He had never really had friends. His personality had been too caustic, too direct. He saw and remarked without ever thinking to use filters on himself because that was not how his brain worked.

So he had submerged any emotions he had, refusing to acknowledge them if he did not have to. The only time he allowed them anywhere near the surface was when he was playing the violin. His one release because it never said the wrong thing, unlike him. So when he felt like he was in overload, when his mind was overwhelmed by the emotions that he tried so hard to deny he would lift the violin and allow it to express himself. It helped that he played when thinking too so no one ever took notice of the fact that while thinking he would play pieces of music made by other people, when he was playing for emotions, he played his own pieces.

He closes his eyes and continues to play as he hears John come downstairs and into the living area. "Just getting in?" the soft voice inquires as its owner settles onto the sofa from what he can hear. For a breath he pauses to nod before returning to playing, attempting to control his emotions through the music. Several more notes escape the violin before he hears his flatmate moving around, only something seems off, its not the right pattern for his walking. Not the right weight. Why would it not be the right weight?

Opening his eyes he is startled into stopping by the sight of John's wolf form stretched out on the floor between the table and the sofa, head resting lightly on his paws as his large blue eyes on him.

Setting his violin down slowly, the desire to touch the wolf is almost overwhelming to the detective, hesitantly, he inquires, "May I?" as he motions to the wolf's fur.

_**Of course, I did promise you a chance to touch my fur to your heart's content if you will recall.**_John answers him softly, his voice echoing through his mind as the massive wolf pushes the table away and scoots so there is a small space for him to move between John and the sofa.

Eyes narrow in focus, he sinks his fingers into the fur at his neck, cataloging the difference between that fur and fur on other parts of his body as he spends the next few hours scratching and petting his flatmate. Hs is surprised when he realizes John is drifting into sleep but finds that he too is tired. Not wanting to lose the connection he feels building, he sprawls on the sofa, tugging on John's fur to get him to move just a little closer, which he does.

Smiling, he drifts off to sleep, his right hand still buried in the softness at his flatmates neck. When he awakes he tries to understand why his hand is rather warm and what the feeling against his fingers is. When the previous few hours come back to him they are rather embarrassing. Quickly withdrawing his hand he blushes in embarrassment at the fact that it had felt so right being asleep with John so close.

"Morning Sherlock," his flatmate murmurs in greeting as he collects his things and heads to his room without pressing.

John in nothing but his pants, his mind points out, how….tasty. Wait? What! Since when did he find anyone tasty? Falling back on the sofa, he steeples his hands under his jaw and considers the implications of it. He is barely aware of when John is done shower, or when he starts breakfast, or when Eric shows up. His mind is too focused on understanding the changes going on for him to pay attention to the conversation that the two of them are having in the kitchen. Despite his distraction he is well aware of when the cobra leaves, particularly the icy feel in the room just before he does so.

Nearly the entire day is spent with him lost in his Mind Palace. When he finally emerges from it is just before dinner and John has placed a cup of sweet tea next to him. He takes several sips, breaking it down in his mind before walking over the table to go experiment on some blood cultures he had collected the week before while John makes dinner. He is not hungry, so he ignores the small plate of food left for him, but eventually snags a single bite off of it just as John bolts to the door.

Since his actions are so very random for his stable flatmate, he finishes what he is doing and quickly puts it away just as he returns to their living room. The front door shuts though he can see no one and he realizes that it must be a shielded shifter than. How interesting.

When Eric appears with a golden female in his arms he is startled. For one thing he is pretty sure that the cobra does not like contract with anyone unless it is to break them into little pieces, for another it looks like the female is broken into pieces. Just a quick glance over her tells him about her many injuries, two of which could be deadly.

"Sherlock, please grab the first aid kit." He hears John tell him even as he watches John reach out with his left hand against the dying woman's throat. Who is the dying woman? He wonders as he fetches the kit from the bathroom. When he gets back, he is surprised to see her on her feet, albeit not stably. A few breathe later she inclines her head and leaves, without ever saying a word to either. Shocked, he murmurs, "Wasn't there two of them?" as if he had not seen the energy pouring from his flatmate into the golden female.

He's wondering why he has the first aid kit when John nods, answering, "Yeah, Spathi took off as soon as she was no longer dying in typical style. Don't even bother considering to do the same, shirt off and sit."

The cobra visibly bristles at the order, but obeys, reveling a rather slender body that still has muscle definition. Scales cover the back of the neck, down his shoulders and upper arms, they taper off in his triceps before reappearing at the crook of his elbow and vanishing again before reappearing around his wrist, covering all the delicate areas of it. How had he not noticed before?

John takes the kit from him, deftly opening it and pulling out the peroxide as he goes to cleaning the gouges running the length of his shoulder, some of his scales appear to be damaged as well.

"Sherlock, do you have a small amount of acid? Something organic, not chemical based, not mixed with anything?" his flatmate asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. He considers it for a a moment before fetching the citric acid from the lime he had been working with just a few days before, it is powdery but it should work he hopes. Amazed, he watches as his short flatmate carefully places some of it on the back of the cobra, right over the damaged scales. A low hiss escapes the cobra, but he does not moved as John takes the small scalp from the first aid kit and cuts the scales away, using a pair of tweezers to hold them before throwing them away.

Part of him screams that he wants the scales, but he ignores it as he continues to watch in fascination.

"Shift," John orders as he puts the first aid kit back together and gives him the beaker.

Frowning, the cobra gets to his feet, still shockingly graceful for someone who was bleeding just minutes before. The next thing he knows is there is more than thirty feet of coiled black snake swaying on his floor, eyes locked onto his flatmate as he continues to work on him. Before he can even finish processing, Eric has returned to his human form, or close enough since he still has his cobra's hood fully extended before he pulls it back in and leaves, snagging his shirt as he does so.

Shocked, he decides to help John clean up the bloody mess, but is happy that he does not have to think as he works. There is a lot for his mind to consider.


	30. New Moon Meeting

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 30  
__Greg's POV  
_Shortly before five p.m. a slender young woman with rich brown hair comes walking into Scotland Yard, most the men in the room stop and stare. Several of them offer her assistance but she ignores them all her eyes lighting from person to person until her eyes settle on him. When Sally makes a remark about how too many men are dogs he realizes that Anderson is also staring and thus the cause of his detectives annoyance.

Smiling, the young woman strides over to where he is waiting, stopping just a few feet away and greeting him, "You are Detective Inspector Lestrade?" she queries, completely ignoring Sally who is bristling in aggravation.

He nods, "I am."

Her smile widens, "Excellent! I am to see if you would like a ride when you get done with work."

For a moment he does not understand before it clicks. The pack meeting is tonight after work. He is actually almost done, just wanted to cover a couple of points with Sally before he was going to leave. He had originally thought that perhaps john had not said anything to whoever it is that arranges things, because he had not gotten a message but here stood his message apparently.

"I'll be half hour or so," he tells the young woman.

She nods, turning on her heel, "I've got the blue-green car parked at the end of the lot," she tells him before heading off, still oblivious to the stares that she is getting.

"What the hell is that about?" Sally demands as she stares at him. "You just moved out a couple of weeks ago, now this? Really?"

"Shut it Donovan," he snaps as he picks up the case files he wanted to discuss with her. "It's nothing personal, I was invited to join a pack, and there is a meeting tonight but it is outside of town. Since I do not have a car and was not sure I wanted to pay for a cabbie, the pack has arranged for me to have a ride."

He keeps his voice low as he answers her, it is not most of the departments business that he is from a family of shifters or that he had been accepted into a shifters pack. Her eyes go wide as she stares at him. As a jackal she has a hard idea accepting the concept that a human could be part of a pack.

"Oh," she mutters.

Shaking his head, he changes his focus back to the files and discusses the points that he wanted with her. By the time he is done, it has actually been forty-five minutes and he is feeling bad that he is running behind. As he walks out to the parking lot, Sally walks with him, though she gives a slightly snide remark when they do not immediately spot the car. Almost immediately after she comments the slender female reappears at his side, a smile still on her face.

"Hello again Detective Inspector, I had to go fetch a few others, so I ended up moving the car, I apologize for the inconvenience it may have caused." She murmurs as she tilts her head to the side as she delicately sniffs the air

"Not a problem Miss…?" he replies, voice trailing off when he realizes she had not introduced herself.

"Maria," she replies as she leads the way to a nice sized green-blue car. It's not very new, but it is well maintained. Inside there are three people sitting in the back, two who appear Asian and the third is an older gentlemen that is vaguely familiar. "The front seat is for you," she tells him as she gets into the vehicle.

He nods to Sally who had walked with them before getting into the passenger's seat and fastening up. Moments later the small female was driving with an ease of someone who drives a lot at higher speeds than he is sure is not legal but he is not looking at the speedometer. He's off the clock. Within half an hour they are pulling up to the edge of the property, a small gate house and fence blocking the way. Without slowing or stopping he can feel the small surge of energy right before the gates open and he turns to stare at her.

"I just alerted the gatekeeper to my ranking and identity, he opened the gate accordingly." She tells him as if reading his mind. "Right now is the pre-meeting time, food and drink, all non-alcoholic. A meet and greet if you will. Once everyone is gathered that is expected the meeting proper begins. I am curious if it will be a repeat of the last full group meeting."

Curious, he gives her a funny look, "Why? What happened?"

She gives a small shrug as she pulls into a parking space, "An idiot wolf challenged the alpha and got his arse kicked, it was amusing to watch, but tonight is going to be full without any scenes like that."

As the five of them get out of the vehicle he asks, "Full how?"

She shrugs a bit, leading their group towards the back of the house, "Several formal pack welcoming, dealing with the Devon pack, umm I think some of the wolves are planning to ask for formal permission of bonding, and I think one formal acceptance of pack for a new pup."

His eyes go wide at the list that is a busy day, he only hopes that he is not adding stress to it. As much as he likes being in the pack, he really does not want to cause problems.

When they get around the edge of the house and the backyard comes into view he is slightly amazed at all the people. There are at least fifty adults or near adults and another ten to fifteen children that he can see. Some of the adults are already in their wolf form playing with the little ones, others are gathered in groups visiting. He is pleased when he spots Sherlock because he is the only familiar face in the crowd, he cannot seem to find John.

Before he has a chance to do anything a teenager comes looping over with the easy grace of someone comfortable in his skin. "Gregory Lestrade, Yao Soo Lin, and Yao Liang?"

The two with him nod, while he mutters, "Yes?"

The boy flashes an easy smile, "Mum told me to escort you three to the alpha's greeting as soon as you arrived. You're the last to show," he stops, tilting his head and thinking for a minute, "Do you need to stop for food first?"

He gives a shake of his head while he waits for the other two who do the same. Nodding the teen turns and loops away, keeping just a head but not that far. Within a few minutes he finds himself standing by a gazebo along with a group of other people. Not long after that, a tall dark colored man comes striding up, stepping on to the first step and calling for attention.

While his ability to read people is nowhere near as good as Sherlock's he can automatically tell that this is a military man and one of the leading pack members.

Slowly, all the wolves both adults and children gather in a semi-circle around him and those that he is with. Almost immediately thereafter John, Sherlock, a slender dark-haired man with scales, and a woman with black-based multihued hair step up. The tall man who had called for attention takes his place between Sherlock and the man with scales. Scales? He does a double take, realizing that yes the fourth in the set had scales running the length of his neck, that those scales were pitch black.

Shaking his head, he switches his attention to John who is speaking firmly, formal words of welcoming. "The Watson Pack formally accepts and welcomes Jace Arden, bondchild of Iota Daria Arden and Nathan."

A slender teenager in a jade green two piece suit with a white silk undershirt steps forward, he can tell that the young man is nervous but determined. When a female in the group his near makes a nasty remark, he is startled when the man with scales jerks his head once at them. A moment later the female that had made the remark hits the ground with a cry.

"Eric," he hears John murmur warningly.

The scale man merely shrugs, eyes focused a head.

The teen smiles hesitantly, offering his wrist to the alpha with his head bowed.

John presses his wrist to the offered one before pulling the teen in for a quick hug. "Be welcome to the pack."

The kid straightens out, moving to stand before Sherlock and offering his wrist to the taller man. He is shocked when Sherlock graces the teen with a genuine smile, accepting the wrist to wrist before gently squeezing the boys shoulder. With a large smile the teen moves to stand next to a blonde haired giant of a man who stands at military rest.

"The Watson Pack formally accepts and welcomes Gregory Lestrade," he hears John call out, and he steps forward, offering his wrist but not bowing his head. John grins at him as he accepts the offered wrist and a thrill of power jolts through him much like it had two days prior when he had. Raising an eyebrow in question, John tilts his head towards Sherlock so he steps in front of him and the rush of power that he gets startles him before he steps back as well.

He can feel the link forming between himself and every member of the pack, most of them are happy, though there are a few that are afraid. The kid, Jace, seems to be one of the most dominate ones he can feel.

Slowly John repeats the process with the two Asians he had been in the car with, then with the group standing together with all but three of them, including the female who had made the remark about the boy. When he is done with the welcoming, a young woman with dark red hair with a slightly heavier man steps forward, a small child in her arms.

"Donna and Robert Nolan seek the acceptance of Rupert Nolan into the Watson Pack." It is the male standing to the side of Sherlock who speaks, his words formal as he announce the couples intent.

He is surprised when Sherlock steps up before John, a look of concentration on his face as he gently presses his wrist to the child's forehead, announcing in his clear baritone, "He is accepted," before he steps back, glancing briefly at the shorter man at his side to make sure he had done the right thing.

Smiling, he nods to his tall friend, before stepping forward and announcing, "The Watson Pack gladly accepts this pup into the fold, all within the pack shall protect him as their own." He repeats the motion that Sherlock had done before the couple with draws.

As they step back a loud cheer echoes through the pack.

"Is there anybody else who has a formal request?" the tall man who had done the announcements thus far asks. When no one steps forward or says anything his eyes sweep the gathering before stating, "The punishment of the three responsible for the harm done to the pup Jace shall now be addressed."

John's eyes are cold as he stares at the three that had not been formally accepted, he is surprised to see when they are shoved forward, the female harder than the two men by a group of serious looking individuals. "You have been charged and found wanting of the crime of child harm and endangerment, by pack law your punishment has been set by your alpha. As such you will be given two choices, accept your punishment or death."

He jumps, when a small female appears at his side, "Gregory Lestrade?"

He nods distracted, staring hard at John.

"I was asked to tell you that you may leave for this if you feel it would put you at odds with your responsibility as a police officer." She murmurs softly, her voice light.

"What's going on?" he asks, not making a choice yet without the facts.

She tilts her head to the side, querying. "May I show you?"

He nods, offering his wrist but she ignores it, touching her fingers to his temple. The next thing he can feel, see, and hear the events of a few weeks prior. See the damage that had been done to the pup and the immediate reaction to the damage to the boy. A small part of him shivers at the violence that seems so simple for this group, including his friend, the man he thought was not violent.

"He was a soldier," she murmurs, "everyone forgets that because of his unassuming manner, just like they forget that he is an elite alpha.

"I will stay," he replies, watching carefully, as long as there was no bodies he would keep his mouth shut. He understood that pack law did not always match up with human law. As a member of a pack, the pack law would actually come before the human law. It was something he had been taught since his earliest years, he was lucky that as a rule when shifters dealt in pack law, there was not generally a crime scene, victim, or evidence left behind for him to investigate.

She nods, staying where she is but keeping her eyes on the three people in the front now.

The blonde haired alpha glances at the young woman at his side with a raised eyebrow and she nods her head once. Moments later John starts speaking again. "Your punishment is as follows: Talos, Iota of the dead Devon pack, step forward."

The oldest of the three steps forwards, an arrogance on his features. "You are not my alpha," the wolf snarls staring hard at John.

Before John responds, a long black tail slashes outwards and knocks the arrogant wolf on his face.

He can see that John is trying not to laugh as he gives the fourth man over a look."Talos, for the crimes of child abuse, child endangerment, failure to protect a child of the pack, and abuse of your rank you are stripped of all rank among all Clans, your powers to be bound, to be effectively human under the command of Iota Daria until a time that she feels you are worthy of your gifts returned. Do you accept this punishment?"

The tall man gets to his feet, snarling and shifting as he lounges forward. He does not make it far before he is held by the throat by a long black tail, the owner of that tail still mostly human though the cruelty in his eyes sends a shiver down his spine. "You were asked a question." The snake hisses softly.

"I will never agree to be human in the service of a viper whore because of one mutt." The snake turns his head glancing at John with his eyebrow raised, John gives a quick shake of his head and the large snake nods once. Squeezing briefly before dropping the man and allowing the guards to collect him.

Without missing a beat, John turns to the next one, a young man not far out of his teenage years. "Michael, Omicron of the dead Devon pack, step forward."

The young man steps forward, head bowed. "Michael, for the crimes of child endangerment, failure to protect a child of the pack, and abuse of your rank you are stripped of all rank among all Clans, your powers to be bound, to be effective a human under the command of the Omicron Jeffery of the Watson Pack until such a time as he feels you are worthy of your gifts returned to you. Do you accept this punishment?"

"I do," the young man's voice was soft, almost un-hearable as he bows low, exposing the markings on his neck.

John places his left hand against those marks, eyes burning electric blue for a moment before the young man's knees buckle as he whimpers and falls to the ground.

An older man with silvering hair approaches, inclining his head before he steps up. "I accept the responsibility of this human and the honor of the judgment," he formally states, stopping next to the young man on the ground.

The blonde haired man smiles at the older gentlemen as he releases the younger man's neck, waiting for the two of them to step back before he begins speaking again. "Jenna, daughter of the dead Devon pack, for the crimes of child abuse, child endangerment, failure to protect a child of the pack, and abuse of your responsibility as a mother are stripped of all rank among all Clans, your powers to be bound, to be effectively human under the command of Iota Daria until a time that she feels you are worthy of your gifts returned. Do you accept this punishment?"

Her eyes widen as she stares at John, a feral look crossing her features as she spins to face the boy who had been accepted into the pack at the beginning of the ceremonies, "This is your fault you piece of garbage! How dare you lie about your treatment! It was downright gentle considering what you deserved!" she screams at him. Before she has a chance to do much more than take one step forward, that long black tail slashes her legs out from under her and drags her backwards.

"Call your pet snake off," she snarls.

"Eric, she is Daria's to decide what to do with," John comments, looking at the last person standing with him, the female with the multihued hair.

That female steps forward, crouching down so she is face to face with the other woman. "Your lucky you know, for the gift of my son I will allow you to live." She pauses, her voice low so only those close can hear, he is certain that he is not supposed to but he had always been blessed with good hearing. "You are also unlucky as well, for the harm you have done to my son I give you to the elite black cobra Eric to do with as he wishes as long as you do not die."

The woman's eyes go wide at this statement and she tries struggling but gets nowhere as that long tail pulls her to him, a moment later he sinks two long fangs into her shoulder before letting her drop to the ground unconscious.

John barely spares her a glance as he looks out at the pack and everyone within it. "Understand this. I will not tolerate abuse of any form by any pack member, no matter who the victim is. The punishment will be swift and painful. There will not be another incident like the one that has been dealt with now. Am I understood?"

A loud round of "Sirs" "Yes alpha" and "Yes elder" can be heard through the collection.

Nodding, John's entire demanour changes, "Now then, let us celebrate the growth of our pack and its newest members! Everyone enjoy the food, drink, friends and family."

That seems to be a sign because the group disburses and he finds himself staring at where the shorter man had been just a few minutes prior with no one there. He nearly comes out of his skin when Sherlock appears next to him.

"Shocking isn't it? Who would have guessed that such patient and gentle John could have such a cold side? I keep forgetting he was a soldier too." The younger human murmurs as he watches the various members of the pack as they move around. "This pack seems to be different than any other pack, and that is according to their own admissions. John is the only wolf in the leading members despite the fact this is essentially a wolf pack. His most trusted council is a falcon, black cobra, viper, and mouse."

For a moment the tall man pauses and he looks over at him, noticing how wide his eyes are and realizes how close to an overload he is. He is not being polite he is trying to function with his mind being overwhelmed.

"Are you alright?" he asks the taller man.

Sherlock gives a small shake of his head, "Of course," he murmurs, but he doesn't believe it for a moment. There had been times in the past he had seen that same look on the younger man's features and it always came right before he exploded outward.

"How about we find somewhere quiet?" he suggests and is shocked at how quickly the taller man nods.

Before they can even move, the small female is at therir side, her hand just above Sherlock's wrist but not actually touching it, "This way, I was directed by both the Elder and Eric to see you to the library."

Her voice is low, designed to comfort. She leads the two of them into the house, and through part of it until she throws open a pair of doors before retreating, leaving him on his own with a nearly overwhelmed Sherlock. Almost as soon as the doors close, a second person opens them and slips in, this time the person is carrying a small case in her hands. She glances between the two of them, before narrowing her eyes a bit at Sherlock and nodding before presenting him with the case and withdrawing as well.

The curious consulting detective opens the case, staring in shock at what he pulls out. A moment later the library is filled with the soft sounds of the violin and he feels as if he is intruding so he quietly leaves, tracking down the young woman who had shared his thoughts for a brief time earlier.

Upon finding her he introduces himself and spends the rest of the night speaking with her about the pack he now finds himself in and everything that it will entitle. He is lucky that he understands most of the packs ways because of his upbringing so it is not as hard as it probably is for some. He barely notices as time flies, until the female he is speaking with, Mouse she calls herself, asks if he would appreciate a ride home because it is getting late and he realizes that is after midnight.

oOo

The next day is a long one for him, his mind keeps going back to the previous evening and how different things were within the Watson pack than they were in any jackal pack that he had ever interacted with. By the time he has completely his shift, luckily with no new murders included so mostly a day of paperwork, he has several questions he wants to ask John so after work he heads over to Baker Street, mildly surprised when the only one he finds there is Sherlock.

For a short bit he visits with Sherlock before something nagging at the back of his mind comes to the surface and he finds himself asking, "Why were you with the other high ranking members of the pack? I don't understand."

The younger man shrugs, replying, "I'm the alpha-second so my place is with John at those functions or so I understand from the lessons that I have been receiving from Cyanne."

"But the alpha-second is the alpha's sibling or mate," he comments without thinking.

Sherlock gives him a funny look, a questioning look and he decides that he needs to withdraw. He will just text John later and that's what he tells Sherlock who has picked up his violin and begun to play, his attention no longer on him.


	31. Frustration

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

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_Chapter 31  
__John's POV  
_The days following the pack meeting on the new moon were a bit stressful for him. That first day back, he had gone back to work at the clinic to discover that one of the doctors had quit so he was going to be working a bit more until they were able to hire a replacement. Over all, that would not have been a problem except when he got back to the flat he could smell that Greg had been there but Sherlock was completely locked into his mind as he slowly played the violin. Normally, his playing would reveal his mood or what he was thinking about yet it wasn't this time. He was so deep within his mind that he didn't seem to notice anything and that is the way he stayed for almost two days much to his dismay.

He kept leaving teas for him to drink whenever he was not in the room but he would always come back to them not touched and his tall flatmate unmoved from where he was. It was actually very concerning for him.

On the third day following the pack meeting he got home from work to the sound of gunshots ringing through the flat as his bolts up the steps to see what is going on. There are no new scents so he knows it is his flatmate up there. With ringing ears he takes the steps three at the time to spot his potential bondmate stretched out in his chair with his long legs crossed at the ankles as he fires without looking at the wall from his left hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demands as he stops on the landing, his voice louder than originally planned because of the ringing in his ears.

Sulkily the taller man mutters, "Bored," in response.

"What?" he question in disbelief, having a hard time believing he had just heard him correctly.

Louder the tall human repeats himself, "Bored!" A moment later he is on his feet, jumping with the agility of the cat that he has often compared him too.

"No," he mutters as he watches as his dark-haired human starts firing at the wall again, this time with his right hand surprisingly enough.

"Bored!" he grumbles angrily as he shoots the wall several times from a variety of different positions. Each time he shifts his stance he repeats that until he snatches the gun form the taller man. Grumbling, the dark-haired man walks over to the sofa, momentarily brushing his hand against the wall where he has a smiley face painted that is now full of bullet holes. "Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them." He mutters as he flops down on the sofa and works towards getting comfortable while wiggling himself into place.

After putting the gun in the safe again, not that it is going to stay there knowing Sherlock, he gives his dark-haired flatmate a frustrated look he mutters, "So you take it out on the wall." Shaking his head he removes his coat, "Why didn't you call Eric? I am sure the two of you could have figured out something not boring."

Despite the fact he is not facing the dark-haired human he can just about feel the eye-roll.

"Didn't you have a potential case if I remember correctly?" he asks as he heads into the kitchen where the table is covered again with experiments. Thank the Elder Gods he was used to this type of thing due to the packs cobra or he would be pulling his hair out about now.

"Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time." Comes his still sulkily response.

While he is not happy about the gun or the mess everywhere, he is pleased to see that Sherlock has finally come out of his mind long enough to bother. He had been getting concerned about his flatmate when he had spent so long in place playing the violin.

"Ah," he responds, his voice mildly sarcastic as he continues, "shame." Walking past the disaster that is the table he is hoping that there is something to eat, "Anything in? I'm starving." He mutters as he pulls the fridge door open and quickly shuts it for a moment. Closing his eyes as he mumbles, "Oh, f…"

Reopening the fridge door he looks to see if there is anything to eat but his attention keeps getting pulled back to the severed head, cut off at the neck sitting on the shelf. "It's a head," he grumbles, turning towards the living room he raises his voice a bit, calling out, "A severed head."

Calmly, as if a severed head in the fridge is an everyday occurrence, his relaxing flatmate remarks, "Just tea for me, thanks."

For a minute he stands there, his mind is warring between laughing hysterically and screaming as he decides to go inquire as to why there is a head in the fridge. With that in mind he strides back out to the living area, stating, "No," he drawls slowly, "there's a head in the fridge."

"Yes," he calmly answers as the tall man stares at the ceiling.

"A bloody head," he grumbles. Really they need two fridges, one for the dark-haired man's experiments and one for food.

Tilting his head towards him, the dark-haired human remarks, "Well, where else was I supposed to put it? You don't mind, do you?" lowering his voice a bit he continues sounding bored again, "I got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death."

Scrubbing a hand across his face, he counts until he has gotten his frustration under control again. It is times like this he is happy that his potential bondmate is not a shifter or he would be able to smell the frustration pouring off of him right now.

Changing the subject, his dark-haired human motions towards the laptop as he states, "I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

His lips curl in a bit of a smile as he turns towards his laptop, considering the effort that he had put into it. "Uh, yes," he mutters as he drops into Sherlock's preferred chair rather than his own. Right now he wants the scent of his bondmate on him without wanting to touch him since he is feeling the urge to smack him. A little warning that there was going to be a head in the fridge would have been nice.

"A Study in Pink," the tall man remarks, stating the title he had given it, "Nice." Sarcasm almost drips from his tone.

Oh this probably is going to go downhill he thinks as he inquires as to what his flatmate thought of it. Sure enough, he was right, he's not pleased. Apparently the idea that everyone who reads it knows that he hasn't a clue about certain subjects is something that pisses him off. Lovely. Here he thought he was paying him a compliment with the rest of it, but he had only focused on the part that made him seem more human. The next few minutes are tense as they discuss the subjects that his flatmate cares nothing for.

When Sherlock starts to get snarly, he bites down on his lip, looking away so not to let the taller man realize how much his comment about on the Work mattering bothers him. It is moments like this that he is happy he has said nothing to the human about the potential bond between them.

As the human stops speaking he shoves the magazines on the table away from him and curls onto his side facing away from him. His scent is full of frustration and confusion as he pulls his dressing gown close around him.

Smelling that there landlady has just gotten back he decides it is best if he goes for a run rather than try and deal with this right now. For three days he had worried about the human and now he was acting like this. Yes, it would be better for him to just leave for a bit.

"Where are you going?" the tall human asks, looking over his shoulder, his scent changing again to something he cannot identify, there is a tremble in his voice.

"Out," he replies as he heads towards the landing and pulls his jacket on, "I need some air."

Almost as soon as he is outside he sends a message to the owl he can feel so close by, _Stay here and keep an eye on him._

_**Sir.**_ Andrew replies softly, shifting over just the slightest bit.

Once he is sure that his human will be protected he shields and shifts, taking off at a dead run while he allows his nerves to calm. He has gotten only a few miles away when he hears a loud explosion.

_**Sir! The building across from yours has explode, the windows of your flat have been destroyed and your bondmate had been in front of them when the explosion occurred.**_ Andrew alerts him calmly, relaying the facts and images as he does so.

Spinning, he sprints back to the flat, getting there at the same time as the emergency responders. Shifting and making his way past them, he takes the steps three at a time, finding his slender human sprawled out on the floor with glass around him. Unshielding, he carefully checks him for damage before pouring a little bit of healing power into him, ridding him of the concussion that he had suffered in the blast.

"Are you alright?" he inquires as the taller man slowly sits up, somehow managing not to touch any of the glass around him.

"Of course," he replies before heading into his bedroom and shutting the door.

Not even moments later the first responders come rushing in, buzzing about as they take in everything. One of them is foolish enough to try and speak with Sherlock and gets his head ripped off for the effort. Once the initial team is done, a secondary set is there moments later to clean it up and cover the windows in plastic.

-Need assistance?- Tech

-No. Though if you could have someone here to fix the windows in the morning with something stronger than glass it would be appreciated.- JW

-Of course.- Tech

_**I will keep watch, rest Elder, something says tomorrow will be long.**_ He hears Andrew remark.

Sighing, he rubs his hand across the back of his head and heads up to his room to go to bed, following the sentries advice and allowing himself to drop off into sleep quickly.

When morning comes he is awoken by an unfamiliar scent rather than a noise. It takes him a moment to realize that it is Mycroft that he smells. Not bothering to change, he goes down stairs and carefully looks around. The windows have already been replaced. According to the lingering smell, it had been done by two of the wolves from his pack. Metallic glass, he thinks to himself as he takes in the sheen to it. Good. That is harder to break than nearly any other type, made to be as sturdy as steel, though it was rare and expensive. The second thing he spots is Mycroft sitting in his chair directly across from Sherlock who is now dressed in one of his suits with his purple silk shirt on while he toys with his violin.

"John," the dark-haired human murmurs in greeting as he glances towards him.

"Are you okay?" he inquires, making sure that he had not missed any part of the concussion when he had been healing him the night before.

"Hmm? What?" he absently queries as he looks around at the papers and mess left behind, though the glass is already gone. According to his expression he had forgotten all about it, "Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently," returning to playing with his violin, the dark-haired human glances over at his brother who is staring at him rather pointedly. "I can't."

Incredulous, the other human repeats, "Can't?" questioningly.

The scent of frustration, disbelief, and annoyance fills the room as the two brothers continue to speak.

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time." The dark-haired man murmurs as he glances up for a moment, one hand absently tugging at the violin's strings.

Tone flat, the ginger-haired man remarks, "Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance."

Still fiddling with the violin and acting as if he barely cares that his brother is there, Sherlock sarcastically inquires, "How's the diet?"

"Fine. Perhaps you can get through to him, John." The ginger-haired human responds, his voice remaining the same even as his scent spikes with even more annoyance.

_What did I miss?_ He inquires of Cyanne who he can see sitting on the floor beneath the sofa. She quickly fills him in on the case, giving her commentary about the amusement these two brothers brings before falling silent.

"What?" he murmurs absently, as if he hasn't a clue what they are talking about.

The ginger-haired human's foot starts to twitch slightly as he remarks, "I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

Staring at his violin, the dark-haired human sarcastically mutters, "If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?"

Glancing at the umbrella he is slowly spinning with the tips of his fingers, the older of the two humans responds in his flat tone, "No-no-no-no-no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so..." his voice trails off as he realizes he was about to say something he did not want to according to the quick look that flashes in his eyes, "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?" the smile he gives is rather shark like, implying that even if he wanted to inquire it would be best not to.

His voice fills with disdain as he continues, "Besides, a case like this, it requires..." again he pauses as he determines what word to use, grimacing he completes the sentence, "legwork."

"Sleep well?" Sherlock inquires as he mis-plucks the string.

"Fine," he replies, taking a seat on the small table in front of the sofa.

He wants to laugh at the way the brothers are intentionally looking anywhere but at each other as Sherlock toys with his violin further and Mycroft alternates between the watch and the umbrella.

Eventually, the elder of the two comments, "Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became ... pals." The implications of how he pronounces pals make him want to force the human into submission for disrespecting his mate but he keeps a tight control on it. Particularly when the older human continues to speak, ignore the dark look he is being given, "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine."

Looking around for a moment, his focus comes back to the politician as he replies, "I'm never bored."

A condescending smile curves the human's lips as he remarks, "Good! That's good, isn't it?"

Again he feels the alpha in him desire to teach this human a lesson but he ignores it, reminding himself he had dealt with the same type while he was in the army, nor reason to lose control now.

Standing, the ginger-haired human lifts a file up and offers it to his brother who ignores it with a flick of the violin bow. With his features completely void of emotion he turns towards him instead, "Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends." he accepts the folder as it is offered to him, mildly startled, "A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in."

Slowly he inquires, "Jumped in front of a train?" without bothering to look at the folder in his hands.

"Seems a logical assumption," the older human replies.

His lips curl in a crooked smile as he queries, "But?"

A flash of confusion fills the ginger-haired man's scent as he repeats after him, "But?"

Eyes flickering between the brothers and the file he replies, "Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident."

His potential bondmate smirks as he applies a sweet smelling rosin to the violin sting, a small noise escaping him.

Tilting his head to look at his brother, the older human explains, "The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defence system, the Bruce-Partington Programme, it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick."

Chuckling lightly, he glances through the file as the tall man keeps speaking, When he catches the scent of amusement from his potential bondmate he looks up to see Sherlock smiling in agreement as he states, "That wasn't very cleaver."

Voice lowering, he can just about hear the annoyance in Mycroft's voice as he replies, "It's not the only copy." Making a small noise he looks back at the papers as he waits for the other man to continue speaking, "But it is secret. And missing."

Looking up at the tall human he questions, "Top secret?"

Inclining his head the ginger-haired human replies, "Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands." Upon finishing that statement he tries to intimidate his brother into cooperating but that fails miserably. As he collects his coat Sherlock starts dragging the bow across the violin in annoying fashion, causing it to sound like a injured animal.

Shaking his head, he waits until the other human is out of hearing range and no longer within scent range before querying, "Why'd you lie?"

The annoyed look the dark-haired human gives him, makes him continue when he originally would not have, "You've got nothing on – not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

Shrugging, he lowers the violin and looks over at him, "Why shouldn't I?"

"Oh," he murmurs before nodding, "Oh, I see."

Nearly every time the two of them had been together it had been tense, this time was no different so he is really not surprised by the dark-haired human's actions. He does not say anything else before the mobile in the taller human's pocket goes off, the tone that of the detective inspector. A case, he thinks, finally.


	32. Bomber

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

Sorry this is late, real life sort of said hello to me yesterday and just let go a little bit ago. Please enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 32  
__John's POV  
_Sometimes the tall human would say something that was depressing beyond belief and then other times he would say something completely adorable. As they head out he considers that scent he had picked up on just before he had left the previous night. Most of his flatmates scent had been frustrated and confused, but there had been something else there, something else that he had not identified then and sought to identify now. While his tall companion calls for a taxi his mind carefully goes over the scene once again.

Confusion and frustration had the taller man curled onto his side facing away. There had also been hints of sadness, longing, and just a little bit of hope now that he thought back on it but that still did not reveal the hidden scent. What detail was he missing? He had understood the fact that the dark-haired human was just about in overload. It was part of why he had felt the need to get out of the flat before anything else could happen. So what was it? Internally shaking his head, he smiles as he watches a taxi pull up.

Upon getting in, he can smell that it is a wolf, and nods once to the driver politely who smiles back at him in the mirror but tilts his head down a bit to show his neck. He belongs to Layard's pack.

_Thank you,_ he tells the other shifter.

_Your venomous beta contacted the various shifters who drive taxi. Arranged contracts with those who he deemed worthy. Threaten those he deemed not. How did you get a venomous creature like that in your pack?_ The man replies as he drives, his attention almost completely focused on the road except for a small part used for the conversation.

He smiles briefly as he looks out the window, recalling his and the cobra's first meeting. _Very carefully. _

Slowly the other man nods and the rest of the trip is silent. There are no dominate scents in the cabbie as Sherlock keeps most of his focus on his phone or out the window, but from time to time it seems that he glances over, giving him this unusual look like he is a riddle to be solved. Oi. They are really going to need to sit down and talk some time. Perhaps he should enlist Scott for that conversation since one of his pack duties is peacekeeping, but then so is Jeffery. Hmmmmm. No. It should be just between them.

Once at New Scotland Yard, the pair heads in, he gives a friendly thank you to the driver as he pays him, though really it will be a tip, Eric had contracted out, which means that he would have arranged handsome fees for those that he considered trustworthy as incentive to keep them that way. As the two of them walk in the door they spot Greg near the entrance, he was waiting for them.

After a polite greeting between him and the jackal-child, the three of them are walking through the building with Greg talking as he goes. "You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones." It is both a question and a statement since it is a well known fact that he does.

Rolling his eyes the taller human murmurs, "Obviously," as he looks around the room at the different people in it.

"You've love this. That explosion..." Greg starts to say and his tall human interrupt with a query.

"Gas leak, yes?" as he shares a glare with the omega jackal female.

"No," the silver haired jackal-child replies with a small shake of his head as they enter his office.

Confusion pours off of his tall human as he repeats him questioningly.

Going around to the other side of his desk the jackal-child continues speaking, "No. Made to look like one. Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box – a very strong box and inside it was this."

This is a white envelop that his dark-haired human is staring at as he murmurs, "You haven't opened it?" glancing up at the detective inspector with his curiously emotionless face.

Looking rueful, the detective inspector replies, "It's addressed to you, isn't it?"

Even though he is sure that his dark-haired human cannot hear the implications of that statement, he does, a member of the pack never opens something that belongs to the alpha or the alpha-second. It is just not done.

Slowly, his dark-haired human reaches for it, he is pretty certain that he is considering all the ways it could be trapped without there being a single physical marker on it.

"We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped." The detective inspector informs him.

_Plus there are no poisons, toxins, or anything that is scented besides the paper, a vague female smell, and a phone._ He tells the tall human as he takes it over to the lamp and looks it over, murmuring things that he notices as he does so.

After a few moments of toying with it, he opens it up to revel a pink phone designed to look like the phone from the Study in Pink case. Curiously, he slowly removes his gloves as he handles it, mostly ignoring the people around them and discussing it.

However he can smell his human's embarrassment over part of the conversation. Wait. Embarrassment, the smell he could not identify before, very small amounts of embarrassment, more towards shame actually. Oh.

With that realization he turns his attention back to Sherlock who is listening to the mobiles voicemail, the message is of four short pips and one long one. Once the message is done an image loads on the screen. The image is of a room that is mostly bare except for two mirrors.

He can just about hear the wheels turning in his flatmates mind as he analyzes the picture. After a brief conversation the tall human is off, moving with his usual grace through the NSY and ignore those around him. Shaking his head, he follows his flatmate to a cabbie, with the jackal-child close behind. When they get into this cabbie, it is another shifter, this time of the crow variety.

_You're the elder of the unusual den? _The stranger softly remarks on the general communications link all shifters can access.

_Yes, _he replies waiting to see what the crow has to say.

_I would like to thank you for having contracts offered to us outside of your pack. Cabbie driving is not that good for pay, but your senior offered amazing contracts to us he decided were worthwhile. For some, those contracts are the difference between surviving and not._ The crow tells him after driving for a few minutes. He can smell the truth in the words, along with the thankfulness included. _Most shifter types see crows and mice in the same light, useless, so we are often ignored. So I just want you to know, us who are crows will make sure to try an always be available for yours or his needs when it comes to driving. _

_Thank you,_ he responds, understanding where the crow is coming from. It is the same view that a lot of people have towards the fact his pack is mixed. For whatever reason, many shifters feel that only their breed is worthwhile and tend to ignore the other types.

He cabbie nods, and the rest of the ride is in silence. He is mildly surprised when they pull up to their flat, he had not been paying attention to where they were going, trusting that his tall human knew where they were going. So when they get inside he is mildly surprised when he by passes their stairwell and heads towards the area with Mrs. Hudson's door and another door directly across from it.

After studying it for a moment, the tall human calls for their landlady, getting her to come open the door so they can go downstairs. None of them really pay attention to her as the trio heads down there, instead each is taking in something different about the basement. When a pair of trainers comes into view, all three stop for a moment and give it a funny look.

"Shoes," he murmurs with mild confusion, if there is only one key, and Mrs. Hudson has it, how did the shoes end up down here? With his mind he reaches for Eric, _Can you track a mobile without knowing its number?_

_Which mobile? I am assuming you are not referring to yours or curly-haired, but I can see three other mobiles in your part of the building. _Comes the soft reply.

He chuckles in his mind, _The one closest to Sherlock's._

_Got it, iPhone correct, new only one message on it, tracing where it is from. _The cobra replies, musing as he checks it. _Now this is interesting, a team of humans trying to make it untraceable. Oh this ought to be fun. They will lose of course._

_Are you sure it is humans?_ He asks the cobra even as he cautions his human about the bomber.

There is a pause before he is answered. _Yes, I am digging up their files and hacking the satellites to view them as I trace it. I can see them as they try to block me, foolish little humans._

When the mobile rings, he just about jumps out of his skin internally but does nothing externally because of years of training.

_Got a lock, _he hears the cobra mutter as he listens to the phone conversation between his tall human and a female on the other end crying. _Sending Nathan and Jacob to check the situation. The female on the phone has a bomb attached to her, she is in a parking lot, wait a moment, I think there is a sniper watching her. Something keeps flickering on the CCTV camera I am borrowing. I will have the team search for the sniper, but I am not sure they will be able to find the sniper. If the person charge is smart at all, they will actually have a few snipers, not just one or two._

_Find them,_ he directs the cobra, knowing that between the three men, the chance of the sniper saying invisible was slim, though not impossible in the area they were working within.

_Will do, _is the reply he gets as the link is cut.

Frowning, he glances at the shoes before looking between the other two men. This was going to be a long one.

oOo

After making sure that the shoes were not rigged as a bomb in any way, shape, or form Greg had retreated back to the Yard while the pair of them had gone to Bart's where his dark-haired human was running all sorts of tests on the shoes, checking everything that he can.

He was considering asking about the woman on the phone, but had decided against it. For one thing, Eric had already located her, for another he knew that the dark-haired human did not actually care about the stranger. He was merely trying to solve the riddle placed in front of him and if it happened to help her, well that was a side point. That mind set should probably bother him but after years of working with the cobra with the same personality type, he was well adjusted to it.

When a soft buzzing noise catches his attention, his dark-haired human murmurs, "Pass me my phone," without ever looking up from his microscope.

Glancing around, he tries to spot the phone, thinking it must be out of reach, and inquiring, "Where is it?"

"Jacket," comes the distracted reply as he continues to work with the microscope.

Giving the human a incredulous look, he slowly walks around the table to where he is standing. With slightly stronger touch than originally planned, he places one hand on his shoulder while pulling the jacket open and rummaging around for the phone.

"Careful," the human snaps without looking away from his project, his focus interrupted. Despite the curtness of his tone he can smell that there is an effect of some time on his flatmate, who's scent shifts ever so slightly to curiosity.

Shifting his search from rough to gentle, he finishes pulling it out of the pocket, the back of his knuckles sliding against the humans clothes chest as he pulls it free and looks at it. The slight intake of breath and brief flare of desire are rather enlightening as he glances at the mobile, looking over the message. It is a text from Mycroft.

"Text from your brother," he tells the taller man as he looks over at him.

Not bothering to look away from his microscope, and sounding rather bored he remarks, "Delete it."

"Delete it?" he repeats, amused by the fact that he is still refusing to consider it just because of where it came from. Despite that, he does as asked after checking the message out one last time. Then with a stroke of idea he pulls his phone out and texts Cyanne.

-Doing anything?- JW

A moment later his mobile chirps in response, -Not currently.- Mouse

-I am linking to send you a file, please look into it.- JW

-Of course.- Mouse

His focus turns inwards as he calls the file to mind then connects with the other shifters mind. It is not a trick most can do, but almost all the members of his military pack had learned it as a way to share information quickly about potential threats.

-Why isn't the cobra looking into this?- Mouse

-Tracing a bomber.- JW

-Right. Got it. Will report my discovery.- Mouse

-Thank you.-JW

He has just finished messaging with the mouse when Molly comes in, followed closely behind by a human male, and the computer starts beeping that it had found its answer to the search that it was programmed for.

"Any luck?" the human queries as she bumbles over to look at the screen.

Pleasure fills the air as his tall human replies, "Oh yes," in a pleased tone.

Moments later a second human pushes the door open, his tone surprised as he spots the fact that there is other people in here besides Molly.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't…" he trails off as he turns towards the door as if he is going to leave.

Before he can leave the human female greets him and beckons the stranger to come in.

The soldier in him studies the newcomer, taking in the grey tee-shirt, dark tan slacks, and decently defined form. The expression on his face is supposed to be pleasant, but there is something beneath it that is not. As the stranger walks closer, he takes a delicate sniff of the air. Identifying the strangers emotions almost instantly, and recording his scent for later, because everything in him says this man could be a major threat.

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes," she introduces him, her scent pleased as if she is having a great honor.

Stepping behind her the other human breaths a noise of surprise while she turns towards him and spaces out in his name.

He smiles lightly, pleased to see that his ability to fade into the background has not failed him. "John Watson, hi," his glance is quick at the other man, but he takes another discrete sniff of the air now that the stranger is closer.

"Hi," the human murmurs softly, before his tone changes to excited and he claps his hand together light exclaiming, "So your Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you, you on one of your cases?"

As the stranger speaks, the fake human steps closer to his bondmate, and he steps back as he studies the situation. The fake human's scent is full of superiority, like he is better than everyone else, and when he stops next to Sherlock it shifts to include desire in it. there is something else there as well, something at the edge of his senses that is slowly working its way through his inventory of scents.

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance." She murmurs in explanation, the two human's giggle at each other for a moment.

A quickly flick of a glance from his human before he mutters, "Gay," and returns to working on his slide.

"Sorry, what?" Molly demands as her smile vanishes and she stares at the dark-haired human on the microscope.

Blinking once, his dark-haired human attempts to cover what he said, as if he realizes it might not have been the best thing to mutter, and remarks, "Hey," then turns to falsely smile at the stranger as he repeats himself.

The fake human's smile is admiring as he replies, "Hey," back at him, his scent clogging the air with desire. As he cups his hands together, the fake human knocks one of the metal dishes off of the side of the counter and then makes a production of picking it back up.

Rolling his eyes, he turns away as he rubs his eyes with the palm of his hand. Oh brother, he thinks as he keeps paying attention to the interactions going on around him. Turning back towards the others he watches as the fake human walks back towards Molly, the blatantly oblivious human female, still muttering things that he really doesn't pay attention to.

"Bye," the fake human murmurs eyes fixed on his bondmate wistfully, "It was nice to meet you."

"Bye," the foolish female replies softly.

His dark-haired human just ignores it however, and he steps in, commenting, "You too."

With a small touch of his hand against the females back, he gives one last wistful look to Sherlock before nodding awkwardly and leaving.

Almost as soon as he is out of the room, Molly turns her attention on his dark-haired human, her voice sad as she demands, "What d'you mean, gay? We're together."

Glancing over at her, Sherlock softly replies, "And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you."

The pleasant joy that had filled her scent was slowly being replaced by the sadness in her voice, "Two and a half," she mutters.

Tilting his head a bit, he makes a noise before saying, "Three."

Understanding that there is no way this was going to end well, he tries to stop it from going any further, murmuring, "Sherlock," softly and hoping that he would listen.

It might have even worked judging by the look his dark-haired humans give him but Molly, the silly little human had to keep on speaking.

"He's not gay. Why d'you have to spoil ...? He's not." She angrily snaps.

Snorting, he replies to her, "With that level of personal grooming?"

"He's not!" she exclaims.

Turning towards her, the dark-haired human explains his reasoning, and she stares at him, sadness clogging the smell of the room before turning and bolting out the door. Confusion pours from his potential bondmate as he watches the other human run.

Sighing, he murmurs, "I'll be right back," and he follows the girl before his bondmate has a chance to say anything more. Out in the hall he finds her leaning against the wall and trying to fight off the tears. As soon as she sees him, she straightens up, trying so very hard to pull herself together. "Listen," he murmurs comfortingly to the human female, "He is trying to be nice to you, I know that is not how it comes across, but that really was his motivation."

Carefully wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a comforting manner, he makes low, soothing noises, and focuses on making his scent relaxing. While it is not as effective on humans as it is on other shifters, it still has some effect and she slowly calms down.

"But he's wrong, isn't he wrong?" she mutters achingly.

He rubs small circles in his back as he waits for her to work through the sadness, the both of them know that his dark-haired human is not wrong, that he is rarely ever wrong.

Eventually, she wipes at her eyes and pulls away with a watery smile, "Thank you," she mumbles.

He inclines his head, replying, "Your welcome, now I am going to go back in alright?"

She nods and he returns to the room where his dark-haired human is sitting at the microspore but staring at the door. It looks like he hadn't moved from his spot since he had followed her out.

When he returns to his spot beside the human he softly tells him, "While you were trying to do the right thing, perhaps the delivery of it could have been done with a bit more tact."

Sighing, the dark-haired human pulls a trainer closer to him, changing the subject, "Go on then," he encourages.

Making a questioning noise, his gaze flickers between the human watching him and the shoe.

"You know what I do, off you go," is the reply he receives as his human crosses his arms and nods towards the shoes.

He makes noises of protest in the back of his throat, not feeling like having Sherlock turn that cobra sharp tongue on him, a small shake of his head, and he murmurs, "No."

"Go on," the dark-haired human encourages him, his expression serious as he turns his light colored eyes on him. "An outside eye, a second opinion, it's very useful to me."

For a moment the two of them have a staring contest before he finally decides to humor his bondmate, even knowing that there will probably be some viciousness at the end of this little experiment.

Lifting one of the shoes he starts looking it over, "They're just a pair of shoes, trainers," he turns them, sniffing the air and studying them carefully. "Well, they're quite big, so a man's," he pauses thoughtfully.

During this pause Sherlock prompts, "But?"

"But there's traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adults don't write their names inside their shoes, so these belonged to a kid. There's well cared for but the sole has been well-worn. They have the eighties design, the smell indicates that they are not new, despite the fact they are cared for, so they might actually be from the eighties, though how they were kept in this shape I dunno." Tilting his head to the side he studies it for a bit, "There is mud on them, but it is dry, and feels like it has been dry for a long while, yet the rest of the shoes are well cared for."

"What else?" his dark-haired human asks, watching him closely.

Mildly curious as to what else there is, he takes one more sniff of the shoe, this time a bit closer to his face then he normally would allow any piece of footwear. There is something there, the scent of old stale air, but layered beneath it in the very fabric of the shoe is something else. Focusing for a moment, he considers the various smells and his eyes widen a bit as he murmurs, "Pool water, the owner of these shoes liked to swim, but he used lotion of some type, not sure exactly what kind though." Shrugging, he sets the shoe down and states, "That's it."

"That's it?" his human repeats questioningly.

He nods querying, "How'd I do?" as a reply.

Startled, the dark-haired human remarks, "Well, John, really well," he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, "You missed a great deal of importance but still did better than anyone else besides me would have." Holding out his hand, the human seems to be waiting for something when he realizes he wants the shoe, looking down at it in frustration he lifts the shoe and places it on his potential bondmates outstretched hand as he switches to deduction mode and starts explaining his observations. "Your right, the owner loved these shoes and they are from the eighties. Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discolored. Changed the laces three," he pauses for a moment, "no, four times. Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made."

Stopping for a moment, the dark-haired human shoes him an image on his phone before continuing speaking, "Limited edition: two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine." He pauses, rolling the shoe over to show the mud, "Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it."

Curious how he knows where the mud is from, he queries, "How do you know?"

"Pollen," is the answer he receives with a nod towards the computer screen and the map on it, "Clear as a map reference to me." Again he pauses looking straight ahead as he continues to speak, "South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind."

A swimming child from twenty years ago who loved his shoes and left them behind? Something about this is edging at his mind, trying to call up a conversation that is relevant but he is not sure how that he had had with Sherlock not long before. "So what happened to him?"

"Something bad," he replies absently as his mind goes through things. Tilting his head a little, the dark-haired human looks at him continuing, "He loved those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them go unless he had to. So: a child with big feet gets…" his voice trails off and his scent is suddenly full of realization. "Oh."

"What?" he queries as he leans against the table and looks over at him.

"Carl Powers," his dark-haired human breathes as he stares off into space.

"Sorry, who?" he responds as that feeling of knowing something on the edge of his memory gets stronger.

"Carl Powers, John," comes the taller mans reply as he continues to stare into space, he gets the feeling he's looking into the past, "it's where I begin."

It is at that point that the realization hits, they had discussed a child swimmer who had drown when Sherlock was a child, that no one had thought it odd except him, yet his shoes had been missing. Oh, his mind supplies as he feels rather stupid for not recalling sooner.

With that realization in mind, his dark-haired human quickly cleans up before grabbing the shoes and heading out the door. With a shake of his head he follows him, curious to see what the taller human is going to do.


	33. Intriguing Day

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

_So originally this was going to be where the two of them had a chat, but the story has other plans in mind so it is going to be a chapter or two._

* * *

_Chapter 33  
__Mycroft's POV  
_His brother was absolutely infuriating at times. He had turned to him for assistance with a problem because he knew that the younger man enjoyed showing off. It was his attempt at doing something together in a backwards sort of way, yet his brother completely refused to work with him. Why? Yes they had their difficulties but really, after all this time he had hoped that things would start to calm down between the two. Particularly now that he was living with a shifter. Weren't shifters big on family? It was his hope that Dr. Watson would encourage him to try and reconnect, not encourage him in his rebellion.

Over the course of the day he had sent eight messages inquiring about the situation he had requested assistance with. Each of those messages had gone unanswered. Finally, he had decided to text Dr. Watson, hoping that perhaps he would be of assistance. Instead what did he get? A petite, brown haired woman who was perched on the edge of his desk, watching him closely.

He hasn't the faintest clue how she had got there. Nor can he determine why no one else seems to be able to see her as judging by the fact his PA and two others had been in his office and none of them had noticed her. He might have thought he was imagining things but he had touched her in passing and she had merely smiled at him as if amused.

Eventually taking his seat, he sighs softly, before querying, "Why are you here?"

Tilting her head to the side, she smiles before answering, "The Elder wishes a situation dealt with, since he gave it to me, after you gave it to him, I came for more information." She flutters a hand in the air before continuing, "Normally I would have Tech find me everything there is to know about the situation but he is busy on something of greater of importance to the Elder so I decided to come to the source for the information."

He cannot help but stare at her, frowning a bit he tries to get a reading, but gets nothing more than she is a friendly person who allows her emotions to show a bit more than he is comfortable with, past that there is nothing. There are not a lot of people who can do that. Elder, his mind processes, it is a word certain groups of shifters use to signify who is in charge.

"Who are you?" he inquires, not actually expecting a direct answer.

"I'm called Mouse," she replies cheekily, "You should just text the Elder and get it out of the way, you know you want to anyways."

"Who is your elder?" he queries, watching her closely.

She chuckles, shaking her head a little, "Come now, Mr. Holmes, you're as intelligent as your brother, surely you can figure out who my Elder is without me having to tell you."

It bristles, being challenged by such a small person who seemed to have no fear of him. No fear. Dr. Watson. Grabbing his mobile he quickly types a message and sends it off, a moment later he has a response.

-Mouse knows how to keep her mouth shut and is only asking in person to be polite.- JW

That startles him, makes him wonder what type of leak he has for her to be able to do otherwise, if this is only being polite.

"Well?" She questions a bit impatiently, "I am certain that there are other things I could be doing, such as hunting snipers with the Senior, but I was directed to assist you. Do you want the assistance or not?"

Slowly he studies her again, trying to find something, anything to go on. Still the information he seeks eludes him. Smiling faintly he nods once, "This is unusual."

Chuckling again she asks, "Which part? The part where an unknown person appears in your office and you're the only one who can see her? The part where you cannot get a read on said person? The part where you're about to accept the help offered even though it makes you nervous to do so?" grinning cheekily she pauses for a minute before shrugging, "I'm good at what I do, Mr. Holmes, one of the best actually, if the Elder thinks my training will be of use to you, and has decided that despite the fact you are not den to offer you assistance, you should be grateful for it."

"If you are one of the best, then why do you not work for M16?"

"You've already figured I am a shifter, why would I wish to work for humans on a regular basis? There is no need for it." she replies, shifting to a standing position, she waits patiently for him to decide.

Well, he thinks, shifters manage to keep themselves secret, and she has been here through two meetings without anyone other than me realizing it, perhaps I should accept this assistance from Dr. Watson. After all, I do wish to infiltrate his…den. The best way to do that is to find someone who will be willing to work with me. Since I have not been able to find any other shifter who is even willing to admit to knowing him, this might be a gift horse or a complete problem.

"What do you need to know Miss Mouse?" he finally queries.

She giggles, giving a shake of her head, "Just Mouse, thank you." Smiling, she straightens herself out, taking a military at ease stance, "I require more information about the missile plans, the human Westie, and anything else that might be of importance."

Smiling slightly, trying for charming, he nods once as he answers, "Andrew West, called Westie, twenty-seven; a clerk at Vauxhall Cross – er, MI6. He was involved in the Bruce-Partington Programme in a minor capacity. Security checks A-OK; no known terrorist affiliations or sympathies. Last seen by his fiancée at ten thirty yesterday evening. Found at Battersea but no sign of using the train."

She nods, eyes flickering as if she is typing something as she listens. "So the question of the day is how did he get to Battersea. Along with what happen to his copy of the plans. Alright, I will report back with answer when I have something." Turning, she heads towards the door with an ease that startles him. Before she opens it, she pauses to smile at him one more time, commenting, "Best way to befriend any person within the shifter community is not to smell like a lair, good day Mr. Holmes."

Before he has a chance to respond she is gone, slipped through the door and shutting it silently behind her. Smell like a lair? Well how was he to know what he smelled like? Frowning, he taps his fingers against his desk as he considers the situation. Who does he know who is a shifter? Dr. Watson, this Mouse person, Detective Inspector Lestrade, that's it. He can think of no one else that he can confirm is a shifter, though he has several files on different people he suspects are shifters. Perhaps he could speak with the detective inspector about it.

While he is lost in thoughts, his PA comes in with a collection of files, "Your next meeting is here sir, should I send them in?" she inquires as she hands them to him, never once looking up from the mobile in her hand.

"Anthea, any ideas on where I could find an honest shifter to speak with?" he inquires of her.

Her head jerks upwards, her dark eyes narrowing on him. "Sir?"

"Never mind, send them in," he tells her as his mind switches gears. He will consider the shifter situation later.

oOo

Nearly four hours later he stretches as he bids farewell to the last person he had to speak with today. Carefully working the kinks out of his body, he is not surprised by how silently his PA slips into the room, or the fact her attention is on her mobile. What does surprise him is when she lowers it and looks directly at him for a bit before sighing and commenting.

"Why would you like to speak with a shifter?" she asks as she watches him.

He smiles absently at her, not shocked that she remembers but mildly shocked that she inquires about it. "There was one in here earlier today, you walked right past her without ever noticing and I wished to know if that was a common trait or not. Past that, she said I smelled like a lair, can they really determine that?"

With nearly everyone else he would have brushed them off, however Anthea was his right hand and knew more about him than anyone else except maybe Sherlock.

She nods, clearly thinking about it before replying, "There is a large sect who feels that all shifters are innately evil except for the elites. However, personal experience has shown me that they are just as varied as their human counter parts." She pauses for a moment, glancing down, "ones like John 'Watson are rare, they are innately good and interact with the human world on an helpful bases. I am certain that he is a leader, particularly since he reads like an elite and I cannot see him having evil creatures in his clan."

Curious, he raises an eyebrow as he asks, "How much do you know about John Watson as a shifter?"

She gives a small shrug, "He is a wolf, elite, quiet and unassuming, intentionally allows himself to fade into the background. There is no written history anywhere that I can find on his time in the army past the most basic of facts and reports, even though required clearance to get to. Clearance higher than I have." She pauses to take a breath, "I know he is part of the only intentionally mixed clan in Britain. If I am not mistaken he is the leader of it, though I do not know for sure."

"Elder," he softly states as he listens. This is probably all in that file he had her make about the man living with his brother so why doesn't he remember it? Oh yes, every time he had planned to read it something had come up. There had been that incident with the rogue agent, the minor embassy crisis, that trip to China to deal with a minor treaty problem, plus a few other small events that required his personal attention.

"Elder? So did the shifter that was here indicate why it was here?"

He nods, "She was here at orders of her Elder, loaning her skills to us apparently, the only person I have spoken with lately about needing any sort of outside help is Dr. Watson and Sherlock."

She nods once, "How did she introduce herself?" she inquires as she lifts her mobile and starts fiddling with it. A moment later she drops it, a shocked look on her normally unflappable face. "She's nowhere on the camera's. There is no one on any camera in the building that does not belong."

"Mouse, she said she is called mouse." He answers as he listens to that. Curious about how it was possible that she had stayed undetectable. Wondering if there was any chance he could get her to teach that trick to some of his agents.

"Mouse? That's not a title I am familiar with. Generally, they use ranking titles, stating where a person is within the clan. Not animal racial names." She mutters as she starts typing on her phone.

He knows her, she is trying to find information on a subject she is lacking information on. "She referred to another as Tech."

Again her head jerks up, and while he normally delighted in surprising his PA this was not one of those situations. "I've heard of him. He is the reason there is no information on Dr. Watson or any of the shifters in his unit. According to rumors among some of the humans that have come back and a few of the Gifted, he had been captured and when he was freed, though no one knows how, he caused a massacre of those who had held him. He's a black cobra, the one variety of shifter I have never heard of producing a good person from." she shudders, "I've also heard that he answers only to one person, though I did not know he was part of the same pack as the doctor."

Nodding once, he remains silent and the two of him leave his office, not saying a word until they are in the car. Finally he inquires as they head towards his flat, "How is it you know so much about shifters? What is a Gifted?"

Looking away for a moment, he watches as she collects herself. With steady eyes he reads her, noticing all the little things that show tension and her desire not to speak of this. Slowly she turns back towards him, lowering her phone and answering, "I'm Gifted. For the most part I am human, I just have some very minor telepathic abilities, just enough to see the markings that proclaim when a person belongs to a clan. I have not been able to get a chart or any Intel as to what the markings mean. I can generally tell type of shifter when I am around them, though it is not completely accurate. There are some who are able to block, apparently the person you spoke with today is one of them." She shrugs, "it's the reason I tend not to touch people, how I know when they lie, and why I do not go with you to your brother's flat. His flatmate might be a decent person but he still makes me nervous."

The rest of the car ride goes silently as he considers the information that he had learned today. In two days he was scheduled to have his regular diner with the detective inspector, perhaps he can speak to him further on the matter. One thing is for sure, he really does need to find more information on shifters in general and the ones around his brother in particular sooner than later.


	34. Cases from the Bomber

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 34  
__John's POV  
_For a few hours he finds himself at a loss as to what to do. He already has the Eric tracking the phone and compiling a list of people who may or may not be a problem. Jacob is tracking the snipers and planning how to save the girl incase somehow Sherlock fails. Mouse is working the weapons case in her normal effect way. That leaves him at loose ends and not sure what to do. Compulsively, he starts to clean the flat, working off the extra energy in the only way he can think to.

Somewhere around the time there was three hours left he feels the sight brush of a mind, a warning that his thoughts are about to be shared before Jacob links with him, showing him the woman, and two different snipers as he flies. Once he is done with his visual he lets my mind loose and comments, _**Found both the snipers, pretty sure there is only two. Since the elder-second is with you can I borrow Spathi for her skill set?**_

_Of course, _he replies, understanding that he is referring to her ability with bombs more than her ability to sneak.

_**I am going to have Mouse tag them, the beautiful thing about her tiny self is she excels at doing stuff like that without getting caught somehow. Has to be the innate mouse trick.**_ His beta informs softly.

He sends a mental chuckle and nod, accepting the plan. A moment later he is startled when Sherlock suddenly exclaims, "Clostridium botulinum!"

Mrs. Hudson flees the kitchen where his dark-haired human is working in shock just as he ambles in to makes sure he had heard right. if he had, it was no surprise that it had not been noticed, it was a nearly untraceable but highly deadly poison that he had been warned about during his iota training prior to going to medical school.

"It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet!" the tall human continues as he jumps to his feet and wanders over to where he has the shoe laces at. "The boy suffered from eczema. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles and he drowns."

Making a noise of understand his eyes focus on the laces as he realizes that the testing had showed it in the laces, thus that is how his dark-haired human had found it. As his human explains this he finds himself watching the way the shirt pulls tight across his chest and back as he moves his arms, outline the fact that he has wiry muscles hidden beneath his almost formal wear.

Giving a small shake of his head, he continues to watch as the taller human goes over to the laptop is sitting and types something into it. A few minutes later the pink mobile is ringing. He listens as the trapped female speaks, words from the bomb and waits patiently.

As he does so, he directs a quick message to Eric, _The bomber says he is calling off the snipers. Have you found anything yet?_

_Not the main person, up to more than thirty members in his staff, including two that work for the elder-seconds brother, you may wish to inform him of that. If he needs proof I can provide it._ The cobra replies, his mind distracted as he feels him continuing to process information. _I will tell you if I get more information to work with. _

Nothing else is said as the cobra cuts the link in his normal fashion. Giving a shake of his head, he reaches next for Jacob to see how things are going on his end.

_**Mouse has tagged them. I don't even think they are aware of it because neither of them reacted to it. She got the first while he was still in his hiding place, and the second while he was leaving his hiding place. She says neither are professionals and if they are they are being very foolish. **_The falcon tells him as he watches the situation from a perch high above. _**Spathi has already deactivated the bomb, not that the humans are aware of that, it is mildly amusing to watch how they are edging ever so carefully towards it, **_there is a brief pause, _**I think I have spent too much time with the cobra again.**_

He mentally chuckles at that, before sending his thanks and cutting the link in the morning they can go speak with Greg and the rest of the detectives.

oOo

The following morning brought another case to the dark-haired human by the bomber. This time there was a single sniper assigned to watch the person in question, and that sniper was just as normal as the two from the previous day so Mouse marked them while Spathi played with the bombs in a way that was purely her. Before the end of the eight hours, Sherlock had figured out that the puzzle had to do with Janus Cars and the false life that they could help a person to do. After the human had left his comment on his webpage, the bomber had allowed the boy to call and be freed.

oOo

The following morning they had gone to breakfast, which is to say he was eating while his companion watched. For a few minutes the two of them discuss the situation while a they waited for the phone to ring. This time, when it does so, it is an elderly woman on the other end. Before the call has even ended he is calling for Eric mentally and filling the cobra in.

His reaction is immediate and full of rage, _I will find the bastard and I will gut him._

Moments later the two of them have alerted Greg and on their way to the morgue to look at the body of Connie Prince to see what was wrong with her. She had died of tetanus but the wound that supposedly was the cause was not nearly old enough to have been the reasoning behind it. After determining that how she died must not be the apparent cause, he goes to gather more information, including visiting the Prince Household to speak with the brother Kenny.

The brother is truly full of grief, though there is relief there as well. Considering how hen-picked he was, that is not surprising. Raoul the house keeper on the other hand smells self satisfied as if all is right in his world. There is something else there as well that he can smell but he does not wish to say anything until is sure so he calls Sherlock to come confirm. After his tall human is there for just a few minutes the two of them leave and he looks over at the taller man with a smile.

"You think it's the cat," the dark-haired human comments as they walk away.

He shakes his head once, "Nope, it's the houseboy, he smelled wrong to be innocent, now do you know why?"

His dark-haired companion gives him a funny look, "How? Never mind, you're a wolf," he murmurs before lifting his voice a bit and continuing, "It was a matter of he did not want to lose his comfy placing and he would have had the siblings split up."

After reporting it to Greg he considers asking why he did not report it sooner than realizes that his dark-haired human was probably using any extra time he had in order to learn more about the bomber. It is the only reason he does not get frustrated by the situation.

When the call comes through from the old lady, Sherlock answers it quickly but things go downhill when the woman attempts to describe the person in question. As the line goes dead he receives on his phone.

-Snipers dead.- Tech

When they arrive back at their flat the cobra is lounging in Sherlock's chair, his laptop on his lap as he types. "So you are aware, if I get to this piece of shit first I am going to shred his mind before ripping his throat out," he comments in way of greeting. Standing, he inclines his head politely before heading towards the door.

His dark-haired human glance at him, his scent mildly surprised. After the cobra leaves, the two have a mostly quiet night, he decides to get some sleep now while he can because he is sure that there is more to come while his dark-haired human goes back to trying to figure out more information on the bomber.

oOo

In the morning it is on the news, twelve dead in an explosion, gas leak, as it is being reported falsely. One body found on ground not far away, looks like the person had broken their neck when they had fallen. As they continue to watch the news they see as Raoul is arrested and discuss the bomber, the Carl Powers case, and where this might be going next.

There is a part of him that is angered by his potential bondmate lack of feeling towards the people involved, yet another part of him understands perfectly well. Still, there are times it is difficult to do. As his tall flatmate continues to speak to himself he gets up and heads towards the kitchen in frustration.

"Your disappointed in me," the dark-haired human murmurs as he watches him walk, hands steepled in front of his face, his scent hinted with shock and sadness.

He glances over at him, giving a small shake of his head, "Not really, frustrated by the situation." Shrugging, he comments, "It's rare that Eric cannot track a person down, so I am not happy that we are waiting the whims of a physco."

Before anything else can be said, the pink phone chimes and an image of the Thames appears on it. Frowning, the two of them get to researching only to come up with nothing, so his dark-haired human calls Greg, asking if they had found anything on the South Bank between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge. A few minutes later the two of them are at the river bank, looking over a man who was choked to death and then dropped in the Thames. Sherlock studies the man, keeping a mental tally on the things he notices.

Once done doing so, he lists of all of his noticed facts, though he feels the urge to get a few barbs in first at the detective inspector before he begins. Then, after completing listing the facts he goes walking off a small smile on his he takes off to get a cab. With a shake of his head, he follows the taller human.

The cabbie that picks them up is another crow, this time a female with an easy smile. Giving direction as to where to go to the driver, his dark-haired human lifts the phone and waves it around as he questions, "Why hasn't he phoned? He's broken his pattern. Why?" Leaning forward a bit he tells the driver, "Waterloo Bridge," changing their directions.

"Probably not happy about the loss of one of his men," he replies softly, knowing that the driver is not paying attention. "Where now? The gallery?"

"In a bit," comes the soft answer.

He nods, looking out the window for a moment before querying, "The Hickman's contemporary art, isn't it? Why have they got hold of an Old Master?"

As his dark-haired companion pulls a pen and paper out, he response, "Dunno. Dangerous to jump to conclusions. Need data." Once he is done writing on his paper, he rips it out of the book, folding it carefully, before calling out to the driver, "Stop! You wait here. I won't be a moment."

The driver nods as the two of them quickly get out of the car, approaching the homeless girl on the bench as she calls out, "Change, any change?"

His tall companion tucks his hands into his pockets as he queries, "What for?"

"Cup tea, of course," she replies with a small smile.

Her smile grows as the tall human pulls the note he had written out of his pocket, along with his cash, stating, "Here you go, fifty," as he holds it out to her.

"Thanks," she replies as he walks away and she checks to see what was on the paper.

Again he considers questioning the taller man but decides against it, the homeless have useful resources for him in the past, this is probably just a continuation of that use.

As we get back into the cab, his dark-haired companion inquires, "Have you got any cash?"

He smiles and nods, and off they go, on their way again. When they get to the gallery, the dark-haired human asks him to go check on the guards home, to find any information that he can in the matter. So he checks to see which of the watchers is with his dark-haired human, pleased to discover that the answer is Elspeth. If anyone tries to harm him, they will find themselves dead quicker that a breath and since he would not put it past his human to go seeking a murder on his own, that is definitely a useful thin and since he would not put it past his human to go seeking a murder on his own, that is definitely a useful thing.

At the guards flat, he spends a bit of time speaking with the flatmate even as he prowls around checking things out. Using every one of his senses not just the human ones as he does so. What he discovers was the man was a star gazer, his flatmate had a deep crush on him, and that the guard had turned to a professor in order to speak of something. Pulling out his phone he quickly checks the logs for the nationwide reregister of professors. The one he was speaking with dealt with astronomy.

He frowns as he gets a text from Mycroft inquiring if any more had been done about Westie situation. Sending a quick text off to Cyanne, he checks in with her, discovering that she had been hovering around the flat as a mouse, that the female partner had not known or understood what was going on, but the brother-in-law to be acting weird. While they were out she had searched both their flats and had discovered protected flash drive in his, should she take it? his answer was an immediate yes, along with return it to Mycroft to have it checked.

Rejoining Sherlock at the flat, the homeless woman from earlier is standing outside of it, asking about spare change. When he gets out of the cab, he asks the cabbie to wait, and the young man nods, showing his neck and the wolf pack markings there. For a moment he speaks with his flatmate before they are getting into the cab and driving off. Had he considered the situation they were in a bit more he might have grabbed his gun, instead he had went along without ever asking where or why they were going. He really should have thought this one through a bit better.

At a place called Vauxhall they get out and start walking as his dark-haired companion buttons up his coat. Conversation is light, mostly about the stars as the go until he starts to wonder why they are there. It is not long after that they doing the mad dash to try and catch the assassin who had killed the guard but he had jumped into a waiting car and drove off much to his potential bondmates annoyance. The only good thing, apparently his bondmate had figured he might need his gun, because he had brought it along. Shaking his head, they went to get another cab, this time heading to the university where the professor who the guard had spoken with worked.

They got there just as the massive man started to strangle the professor and his dark-haired human's calling to him seemed to give him pause because one moment he was there and the next he was gone. Pulling his gun he looks around just in time to see the massive man wrap his hands around his humans face.

Aiming the gun at the giant he steadily commands him, "Let him go or I will kill you."

One long breath later and the tall human is kicking his gun out of his hands and lunging for him. Sherlock tries to fight with him but fails to the man's much larger size. Eyeing him critically he plans his next move with care, he is certain that there will only be one chance to do what he is planning and he does not intend to miss.

When golem goes to press down his flatmate, leaning over him, he partially shifts, his size partly increasing but his speed and strength doubling. With a quick jump, he springs on to the taller man's back, grabbing his head and twisting violently. The harsh pop of his spine snapping echoes through the room as his body collapses. Springing backwards, he tugs the massive man sideways, before helping his flatmate to his feet, surging a little bit of healing energy into him to make sure there is no damage.

Sighing, he calls jackal-child, informing them of where they are at and what is going on. Then, with a sigh he goes to check the professor. Her body is shutting down, he had crushed part of her skull and it was killing her. Sitting down next to her, he places one hand over her heart and the other over her forehead as he falls into the healing gift that is his by birth. Within moments the majority of the damage is gone, though he stops just short of fully healing her so she will stay unconscious, he does not feel like explaining how he had saved her life.

He had just rejoined Sherlock over on the stage when Greg and a team get there.

oOo

The following morning finds him with the detective inspector and his flatmate standing in the Hickman Gallery with the proprietor of the gallery there. She is protesting the fact that they are there and that his dark-haired human is calling her prized painting a fake. While she whines, his dark-haired companion is quickly looking up all sorts of information paintings using his phone.

"It's a fake, it has to be," he murmurs as he scans the information.

Sounding indigent the human woman snaps, "That painting has been subjected to every test known to science."

Not bothering to look away from his phone his human returns, "It's a really good fake then."

A few more minutes pass before he spins around to glare at the other human, eyes flashing, "You know about this, don't you? This is you, isn't it?"

She turns to the jackal-child snapping, "Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself and your friends out?"

As his tall human continues to scowl at his phone, the pink one goes off and he angrily pulls it from his pocket, clicking on the speaker phone as he answer it, "The painting is a fake."

_Eric, he has another call._ He tells the cobra, knowing that he will discover the person who is currently being used.

"It's a fake. That's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed." The detective inspector had decided to let everyone think that the professor had died, even as she had been rushed to the hospital under a different name to be treated. There is no answer, and impatiently he continues, "Oh, come on. Proving it's just the detail. The painting is a fake. I've solved it. I've figured it out. It's a fake! That's the answer. That's why they were killed."

Still there is no answer and he takes a deep breath, calming himself, his emotions are currently flooding the room in annoyance, anger, and frustration. "Okay, I'll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?"

"Ten," the voice of a small boy child comes across the speaker.

Almost as soon as the child spoke, his tall human had spun back to the painting exanimining it closely.

"It's a kid. Oh, God, it's a kid!" the detective inspector states in shock, looking between each person in the room.

The human woman's eyes get slightly larger as she stares at nothing in particular, her scent changing to that of minor horror.

"What did he say?" he questions, afraid he had heard right.

"Ten," his flatmate replies as he continues to study the image.

He can just about hear the wheels spinning his head as he figures it out, muttering as the child continues to count down. Finally he gets it, just as the child stops counting and asks if anyone is there. He is just about yelling into the phone as he figures it out, making sure that the bomber gets the message quick enough. Once the bomber has confirmed he heard, by allowing the child to ask for help, he passes the phone to the detective inspector before smiling like their packs cobra.

The trip back to the Yard is uneventful for the three pack members and their prisoner. She has not said a word since the tall human had discovered what the fake was. After a brief discussion about what she is to be charged with and she admits to the fake painting before he leaves.

As the two of them head out, his dark-haired human asks, "Whatever happened with the case Mycroft gave us? You did nothing on it that I saw."

Smiling he texts Cyanne before answering.

-Do you turn the drive over yet?- JW

-Nope, was on my way to get it now.- Mouse

-We will retrieve it.- JW

"The brother has it, shall we go find out why?" he asks his tall companion as they walk out of the building.

The two catch a cab to the brothers flat, and carefully break in as they had done in other times as well. Once in, they wait and confront the man. The two of them listen to his reasoning before calling Greg to allow him to come arrest the man.

oOo

That night he is chatting with Eric on the laptop while his tall bondmate yells at a foolish program on the TV. According to Eric and Mouse, he had not yet given the missile plans back to his brother, however when asked about it, he says he had. Well then, he is planning on using them to get to the bomber then. That means one more person needs to be kidnapped. Sighing, he decides that he might as well make himself available for it.

"Eric has requested that I come over for a bit, apparently there is something he wishes to show me in person." He tells the tall human, "I'll stop and get milk on my way home."

"I'll get it," comes the quick reply.

"Really?" he questions him in disbelief, stores cause him to overload so he rarely goes into them.

"Really."

"And beans?" he queries.

The tall human nods, staring at the TV.

He knows as soon as he leaves his flatmate will be contacting the bomber. _Stay with him Elspeth._ He gives the directive to the shifter he can feel sitting on their entryway.

_**Yes sir**_, she replies.


	35. Shared Thoughts

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 35  
__John's POV  
_He had wandered the city for nearly an hour before he had finally been caught. It had taken every ounce of training he had not to fight back or show his hand to the jackasses in question. The entire point of this was to give Eric a chance to borrow him in order to learn more about these humans. So that's what he was going to do. It did not make it any easier. Particularly when they pressed something against his nose and mouth forcing him to breathe it in.

Lovely. Drugs. Allowing his body to burn through it he mimics the effects of it with ease. It was something he had practiced with Eric and Daria during their time in Afghanistan. The vast majority of their military pack had the ability to do so. Learned for safety reasons.

As they drag him into a vehicle he listens closely as the two men talk.

"Are you sure he was given enough? I thought that Moran said he wasn't human?" the first one demands.

He can feel the eyes on him as he lays there, still acting as if he is out to the world. "He hasn't moved or made a sound, I think Moran is full of shit." The second man replies.

Sniffing the air delicately he is pleased to see that they are both human.

_Eric, now or later?_ He queries of the cobra as he shows him what has already been going on.

_Now. I am a better actor than you, _his temperamental friend replies.

Allowing his mind to drift, he feels when the connection is made and when the switch becomes available. One moment he is playing like he is still under the effects of the drugs they had given him, the next he is shaking his head at the feeling of disorientation he always gets from form swapping. As the shortest bloke in their pack, it is rather odd to suddenly be the tallest. Despite the fact that they had switched, he links back up, keeping a shadow presence in his own body so that he can also view the happenings without having to have the cobra show him earlier.

_Beta, Iota, Hunter, Spathi, Mouse, Watcher, Fighters, and Cat report._ He does roll call as he waits, keeping his presence shielded so that anybody watching for a surge would not see one.

_**Guarding the elder-second, he is on the move, and I am close behind.**_ Spathi is the first to report in.

_**Flying above the elder, observing and recording**_, Watcher reports, showing the vehicle that he is in.

_**Waiting at the pool,**_the wolf brothers fighters respond.

_**Almost to the pool,**_ comes the hunters call in.

_**At your flat, awaiting further need and situation,**_ the iota states.

_**In the elder's pocket, awaiting tagging for those within the building,**_ Mouse chimes in, her tone the easiest going.

_**Outside of the pool,**_ cat remarks sounding bored.

_**Flying to the pool, night vision is not my gig.**_ The beta falcon answers.

Once everyone has reported in, he turns his attention back to the humans in the car. The trip seems to go rather rapidly and he does not know if it is because they did not go far or because he was allowing Eric control of his body. When they get to the warehouse where the two human's drag him out of the car, he allows his senses to explore the area while remaining as nothing but a watcher.

Eric is playing the part of a drugged person to a tee. Allowing the humans to do all of the work in carrying him in, and setting him in a chair. For a few minutes they continue to act like they are drugged, waiting to see how long it takes before the humans think that they are supposed to come out of it and then adding a minute or two past that for good measures.

When it is times to act like he is waking up, Eric shifts to the background so he can control his own body, groaning and rubbing at his shoulder as if it hurts, which it does but not as much as he is pretending.

"Good, he's awake," someone murmurs from behind him.

Taking a discrete sniff of the air revels that there are eleven humans and one gifted person in the building. The gifted one and three of the humans are in the room with him. He feels as it as Mouse slips out of his jacket and down his leg completely shielded from all senses.

"Now that you're up, you can help to strap yourself into this vest or we'll kill you and then find every single person you have interacted with in the last year and kill them too." A cold voice tells him.

Giving his head a small shake he blinks at the blond haired man standing in front of him. A gifted one, his mind supplies before he allows Eric to take control again in order to analyze him. Slowly, the two of them do as told, playing as if they are worried about the results of the threat, truthfully though they are using the time in order to process information.

Once he is in the vest a coat that does not belong to him and smells of human is forced on over the bomb vest and an ear piece is placed on his right ear before he is taken back to the car and driving off. Each member of the team updates them on their status. Just a few minutes before midnight and he is being shoved out of the car as the earpiece comes on.

"Now Johnny boy, do everything I say, or you know the results." A familiar voice commands him using the head set.

Where does he know that voice from?

_Dunno, do not have access to your memories right now, just your body,_ the cobra answers the mental query as the two of them follow the order to walk inside slowly with his hands in his pockets when not opening doors. _What I do know, skinning the person sounds like fun, with the dullest knife I can come up with._

_Eric you're something else,_ he replies to the cobra as they step through the front door and keep walking.

When they get to the pool room, the voice tells him what to say as he pushes the door open. "Evening," he states softly as he looks at his bondmate. There is such a sad look on the humans face, his scent echoing disbelief as he continues speaking, "This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

_**I have the first sniper in my reach,**_ hunter remarks.

_**Second sniper within claws, **_the first of the wolves chimes in just before his brother says, _**third sniper within range.**_

"John," his human gasps, shock still pouring off of him, "What the hell?" he demands.

"Bet you never saw this coming," he replies, repeating what he is told.

_**Awaiting orders, in pool room with elder and elder-second,**_ Spathi reports softly.

_Protect the alpha-second at all costs._ He orders her, not trying to figure out where she is in case the gifted on is still around.

_**Understood.**_

Slowly his human comes towards him, his expression lost as he looks around him as if trying to understand. Slowly he is directed to remove his hands from his pockets and open his coat so he does so, and the relief that pours from his bondmate is short lived as he tries to figure who else is there.

"What ... would you like me ... to make him say ... next?" he murmurs aloud, on script while within his mind he inquires of the other person sharing his body, _Dealt with the bomb yet?_

_Please, this was child's work. I had Spathi teach me after the first one, along with several other interesting things. Love that cats mind._ The cobra responds sarcastically as he keeps control of the body.

;"Gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer," he repeats, before continuing to say, "Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too." He looks down at the laser pointer on his chest, "Stop his heart."

His bondmate stops directly in front of him, snapping, "Stop it." before looking around the room once more, his scent full of rage, "Who are you?" he demands.

"I gave you my number," the voice is no longer in his ear, but behind him and with it, his mind clicks where he had heard it before. The fake human who was attracted to his bondmate at the morgue with Molly. Interesting. Well that just figures. "I thought you might call." As the human walks towards them he queries in his singsong voice, "Is that British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket," he pauses as his bondmate pulls his gun out, "or are you just pleased to see me?"

A cold look crosses his features, as he replies "Both," aiming the gun at the other human's head.

"Jim Moriarty." He introduces himself, "Hi!"

His bondmates scent becomes confused as he brings his second hand up to steady the gun.

"Jim? Jim from the hospital?" he prompts the taller man, as he slowly walks towards them, the fake human's scent is full of arrogance and lust a little bit of lust as he continues speaking. "Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point."

It is probably a good thing he is not actually in control of his body at that moment because his instincts were screaming for him to destroy the human who dares to threaten his bondmate but that would not be possible until cat found the last sniper.

As the red laser flickers over his chest and throat his human flickers his eyes towards him questioningly and he wishes that he could warn him that there were others here.

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see," the fake human pauses for dramatics, "like you!"

_I have not found the sniper that is currently locked onto the elder. Still seeking._ Cat reports, his voice a hiss of anger.

Slowly and softly his human begins to speak, "Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?" he can feel the fake human approaching his back, both shifters feeling the urge to lash out but Eric controlling his body so they do not, "Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?"

"Just so."

"Consulting criminal," his bondmate breaths, "brilliant."

Really, do they have to flirt right now? he wonders as he glances down and then back up at his human.

"Isn't it? No-one ever gets to me – and no-one ever will." The fake human states proudly, his scent far closer now, within easy range of attack for either shifter.

Cocking the pistol his dark-haired human responds, "I did."

"You've come the closest, now you're in my way." The lilting voice responds there is admiration in both his tone and scent, along with that touch of lust.

Smiling slightly he replies, "Thank you." For some reason confidence has suddenly filled his human's scent.

"Didn't mean it as a compliment," he rejoins almost instantly.

"Yes you did."

"Yeah, okay, I did." His voice shifts to higher pitch and sing-song, making the cobra wish he was there in his natural form to rip the man to shreds "But the flirting's over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now!" Again his voice drops back to its normal as he goes back to walking even closer, "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play."

The wolf in him is aching to attack and it is almost strong enough to override the cobra's cold logic. The struggle is enough that he flinches a little, catching his bondmates attention when it really does not need to be caught.

"So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off." He puts emphasis on the phrase my dear, "Although I have loved this – this little game of ours." His accent changes for a moment, "Playing Jim from I.T." then it returns to normal, "Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

He rolls his eyes at the dramatic fake human, really wishing that cat would report that he had the last sniper so they could deal with this now.

"People have died," his bondmate states, his tone even.

"That's what people do!" the human replies, just about screeching the last word, it echoes off of the water.

"I will stop you," his bondmate is serious, his scent edged with something violent that reminds him of the cobra.

_I like him, did I mention that. Perhaps we should ask the Old Ones a favor._ Eric remarks in his mind even as they listen to the fake human speak.

"No you won't."

A quick glance from his bondmate is followed by the question, "Are you alright?"

Since it is Eric in charge of the body for the moment, the two of them decide not to say anything, no reason for anyone to discover their little secret. Instead he lifts his head just as the fake human leans forward next to him telling him he can talk in that sarcastic way. Boy does the fake human stink, both shifters think. He nods once watching as Sherlock offers the flash drive with the missile plans on it.

The fake human's voice soften as he sees what is being offered to him, but his scent is unchanged, it was not really his goal, "Huh? Oh, that," the fake human murmurs as he steps past him. Reaching out, the human accepts them, as he comments, "the missile plans," he hisses out the s sounds. Bringing it to his lips, he kisses it softly before declaring in his sing-song voice, "Boring!" giving a shake of his head the human tosses the plans into the pool stating, "I could have got them anywhere."

Losing control of the urge to protect his mate, he springs forward, wrapping an uncoordinated arm around the human's throat. For a moment it is John back in the reigns of his body as he snaps, "Sherlock run." Still running on instinct he does not use the alpha's voice and later it is something that he will be pissed at himself about.

The fake human in his grasp starts to chuckle and he watches as two dots appear on his bondmates forehead after the human murmurs something about him showing his hand.

_**We can take out the snipers aiming at the alpha-second,**_ the wolf brothers inform him.

_**Where the hell is the missing sniper?** _He hears cat snarl.

_He's gifted, he might be shielding. Do we take the chance anyways? _Eric answer and questions as he retakes control of his body. _Really though, stop being such a wolf._

He snarls at the other person sharing his body, as the frustration over takes him.

Stepping back he snarls softly aloud as he watches the human brush off his suit and mutter, "Westwood." Then, as he lowers his hands to his side the human mutters, "D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"

His bondmate rolls his eyes at that obvious statement, responding in kind and once more the fake human smells of lust. For a man who says he is not gay he sure is overly attracted to his bondmate.

His answer is just as bland until he gets to the end of it. "I'll burn the heart out of you." the human snarls heart as if he is jealous before his tone becomes regretful.

Voice low his bondmate states, "I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." despite his words his scent tells a completely different story.

Shaking his head, the fake human responds, "But we both know that's not quite true."

His human's gaze does not waver as the fake human glances down and then around, muttering, "Well, I'd better be off." After looking at the various doors he comments, "Well, so nice to have had a proper chat."

Expression hardening a bit, his bondmate raises the run, level with the forehead of the fake human inquiring, "What if I was to shoot you now – right now?"

The fake human's scent reflects his concern even though his voice does not as he answers. Once he is done speaking he turns and walks away, heading back towards the door he had come in through.

His bondmate moves in time with him to keep him in sight as he states, "Catch you later," a step between each word.

"No you won't," comes the sing-song reply as the door swings shut.

Once the red lasers have vanished Eric uses his knowledge to start unfastening the vest even as his bondmate reaches for the vest as well.

"All right?" his bondmate demands, worry in both tone in scent.

Since Eric is the one in charge he can do nothing but nod as he looks up breathing heavily.

Again his bondmate repeats the question, "Are you alright?"

Eric had finished unfastening the inner bomb and allows him access to his body again, though does not give it totally back so he can answer. They can still smell the fake human and would rather be prepared for anything. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He responds aloud.

_**Snap necks?**_ One of the wolf brothers asks on the common path.

_No. We are still missing a sniper. Tag them all for tracking so they can be hunted._ He replies as his bondmate jumps to his feet and circles around him to tug the vest and coat off at the same time. "I'm fine," he repeats, "Sherlock," he murmurs trying to get his bondmates attention, "Sherlock!" he demands as he rubs a hand over his head, tugging the earpiece out. Body sharing is tiring, he thinks as he starts to stumble. Landing against the wall he asks, "Are you okay?"

His human had tried to find the other human with after grabbing his gun. Only he must not have found him because he returns a few breathes later, rubbing the gun against his head as he paces. His scent saying that his human is in overload.

"Are you okay?" he asks, knowing the answer even before it is given and knowing it is a lie.

Despite the lie he also makes a statement that says a great deal to him, when referencing the fact that he had been willing to trade his life for his.

As he is getting ready to get to his feet, the fake human comes back in just as two laser dot appear, on each of them.

_Snap their necks. _He orders the ones who have a sniper in their grasp even as he nods at Sherlock that his plan is acceptable. A moment later a single shot rings out as his bondmate pulls the trigger and both shifters force his tired body into motion to knock his bondmate into the water as the room explodes.

As the two of them surface slowly, he reaches for each member of his team, making sure that they are all alright. Each and every one of them reports that they are fine though Spathi is pissed, the fake human had dove out the door he had just come in and survived the blast.

Shaking his head to clear the water out of it they can hear a phone going off, playing Stayin' Alive. Apparently the annoyance had survived then.

However when no bullets come flying their way, he pulls the two of them out of the water, breathing heavy and the cobra retreats back to his body, knowing that there will be no more need for sharing. When he looks around for his gun it is nowhere in sight at which point he hears Spathi comment that she has it.

Outside he can hear the sound of fire trucks and other emergency vehicles as they sit there at the edge of the water.


	36. Together

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

So here it is, Johnlock pure and simple, smut.

* * *

_Chapter 36  
__Sherlock's POV  
_Before his mind can even process what had happened, first responders swarmed the pool and the surrounding area. With the first responders comes the detective inspector and his annoying brother. As the group swarms, those two are carefully helping us to our feet and out of the building to Mycroft's waiting car. Blankets appear from somewhere to be wrapped around the two of us, while the cars heater is cranked up to dry us off.

Almost absently, John recounts the events of the evening, including how he had been heading over to a friends for a bit when someone had surprised him, the being threaten, and everything leading up to the pool. His version of the pool is also a bit detached and he cannot help wondering why when he had been full of cold fury in his dark eyes.

Dark eyes? His eyes aren't dark. They are blue, sometimes grey, sometimes brown, but always light. How had his eyes been dark.

The detective inspector seems shocked by the idea that he had been caught so easily while his brother is looking at him speculatively. He can tell both disbelieve the how he was caught but neither is calling him on it.

When they get back to the flat he is surprised to see Daria waiting for them, eyes narrow as she takes the shape John is in before turning her attention on him. She dismisses both men with them with an ease of someone who is used to prioritizing. Mycroft does not take it all that well as he stares after her in shock as she helps John upstairs.

"Who is that?" he demands, watching the multicolored hair viper.

"Daria, his personal doctor, they were friends in the army. Eric must have alerted her when he did not show that something was wrong." He answers, fairly certain that it is not the truth but not wishing to mention anything about the pack to his brother.

The detective inspector looks at him curiously for a moment before glancing around and commenting, "Do you think I can call a cab? I forgot my phone in the office."

"I can give you a ride," his stuffy brother offers, eyes flickering over the detective inspector with ease.

The detective inspector smiles, "Thanks," he murmurs before glancing his way and stating, "Tell John to take care."

He nods once, watching as both men get back into the car and it drives away. Once alone, he stands there for a few minutes, his eyes closed as he considers how close he had been to losing John. That was not acceptable. He could not ever lose him. That would just break him.

Before he has a chance to do anything about it, the slender viper comes gliding out of the flat door, a serene look on her face. "I give you the same advice I gave him, take it easy. Neither of you are children anymore. Now go hover, I can smell that you want to." Without giving him a chance to respond, she drifts off, vanishing from sight long before she really should.

Giving a shake of his head, he heads upstairs, surprised when he discovers that Mrs. Hudson does not appear to be home, a moment later his phone goes off, alerting him to why.

-I kindly suggested she visit her sister, and added a bit of a compulsion to make sure that she did so.- Iota D

Oh, he thinks to himself. When he gets into the flat, John is stretched out in wolf form on the floor in front of the sofa, his long body seems to have a slight tremble to it. Not really thinking about it he strides over to John and buries his face in the fur at his neck, just breathing him in. His arms wrap around the massive wolf body as a tremble over takes him, the emotions he denies having coming to the surface with a vengeance.

John seems to understand because he pushes just a little closer, not doing anything else as he tries to get himself under control. He knows he is overloaded, that there is just a very fine line between being alright and breaking completely. Tonight he had edged it far more than he ever wanted to.

"John," he murmurs brokenly, his voice higher pitched than he ever thought it could be, his arms tightening around the wolf.

oOo

The next time he is aware, time has passed and he realizes that he had fallen asleep while holding his flatmate in a death grip. Blushing slightly, he straightens up and finds those light blue eyes watching him with a soft expression. It is not one he is familiar with, yet it seems to be familiar despite that. As he looks down at the floor, he feels more than sees as the shorter man returns to human form.

"Are you alright?" the blonde asks him softly.

He nods absently, not trusting his voice not to break again.

"Alright, how about I make some tea and you get comfortable on the sofa?" the wolf suggests gently, and he understands it is his way of giving him a chance to collect himself. Again he nods without looking at him.

Rising with more grace than expected, he watches as his John heads into the kitchen but makes sure to keep himself in line of sight as he does so. What would he have done had he lost him? They never had their talk. They really needed to talk because according to Lestrade he was John's bondmate, not someone else. Tugging his sleeve up he looks at his arm frowning, then why didn't he have a mark? Maybe there was something wrong with him. Shaking his head he decides that he does not want to wait, he wants to know now, while the terror is fresh in his mind, while the thrill of understanding is fresh, before he can talk himself out of saying or doing anything.

With a predators grace he stalks into the kitchen and grabs John by the shoulders, spinning him around to kiss him only to find himself pinned to the counter behind him by one startled soldier. As soon as John seems to realize what was going on he steps back, running a hand through his hair and musing it.

Biting his lip, he reaches again for John, this time, making sure that the shorter man can see him before he does anything and quickly lowers his head just a bit to make up the height difference to kiss him.

Since he had never actually kissed someone before, he is not sure what he is doing, but all the books make it seem so easy. Press lips together and from there your partner will just melt into it. Was John melting into it? He can't tell. Hesitantly, because he is not sure what the proper etiquette for kissing is, his tongue runs along the shorter man's lips and a low open mouth groan is his response.

The next thing he knows, he has been shoved back against the counter again and john had taken control of the kiss. He wasn't going to complain, his mind was lost in a haze of emotions and reactions as the shorter man tilts his head just the slightest and opens his mouth to allow his tongue to slip out. As his partners tongue slides against the seam of his lips and then inside his mouth he realizes that the noises he hears are coming from him now.

Eventually, when he feels like he is going to pass out, John pulls back just the slightest, resting their foreheads together. "Sherlock?" he murmurs questioningly.

Quickly, because he is afraid that his wolf is going to start pulling away he answers him in a low but urgent voice, "John, I finally connected the dots, I do not know why it took so long, it was there to understand if I just opened my eyes. That mark on your wrist is due to me, not someone else. I was so worried that you were going to leave me and I couldn't handle that. I…"

He is cut off by the shorter man leaning up and kissing him again, "Be quiet Sherlock, just feel for a bit, your mind is processing a lot of information right now. Never worry that I will leave, if I can deal with Eric for more than a decade I promise you're easy to live with. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Blinking, he nods slowly as he takes it in. His John has promised not to leave. He could breathe again without fretting. Taking a deep breath he keep his eyes on his wolf. As he considers kissing him again the water pot starts to whistle, causing him to jump because he had forgot about it.

The low chuckle that escaped John was rather attractive, he thought, as the shorter man steps back and turns around goes back to making the tea. It gives him a moment to review the last few minutes and adjust his suit which has gotten surprisingly hot and tight. Shaking his head he makes himself stay even though his flight response is telling him to bolt before the other man realizes what type of effect he is having on him.

"Let's go in the living room," the blonde suggests.

He nods and accepts the second cup of tea, sipping at it as the two of them walking into the other room. Placing it on the coffee table in front of the sofa, he sits down slightly nervously with john, worried about the fact the shorter man hadn't said anything else.

Turning towards him, he has just opened his mouth to start speaking when his blonde haired friend places a single finger against his lips.

"I do not want you to make a choice out of desperation," he murmurs, his hand sliding to cup his cheek, "I know I have told you this before, and I will probably say it again, you're human, do not feel that you have to do something a wolf would do." He pauses to take a deep breath before continuing, "You are an amazing person Sherlock, never worry that I will leave, because I will not. I don't want you to rush into something that you will regret later alright?" for a moment the shorter man searches his face with his eyes, he must like what he finds because he smiles and his heart just about stops. "Now, if you want to continue, I suggest this: both of us get cleaned up and come back in here. If after you do so, you still want to continue what was started in the kitchen I will be more than open to the idea, alright?"

He nods slowly, watching as the shorter man retreats to his room to gather his things. Frowning lightly, he considers what he said, and smiles, realizing that he is trying to protect him not deny him. Though now that he thinks about it, he does notice the pool water smell along with other various odors that are sticking to him. What a mess he is!

Jumping to his feet he heads into his room to strip off the nearly ruined suit before collecting his stuff together. Biting his lip, he carefully pulls the small tube of lube he had picked up from the store three days prior out and sets it on the night stand closest to the bed. If all goes well he will be using it tonight, well this morning, he thinks as he glances out the window. As he collects his things he does a mental inventory of the suggested ways to prepare himself that he had listed from a wide variety of websites.

By the time he is in the shower, he carefully thinks it over, bowels empty? Yes, hasn't eaten in two days. Wash body and hair carefully to remove all oils and greases? Done. Brush teeth, gums, and tongue to promote kissing? Done. Have easy access pants without a lot of buttons? Done. Have lube ready for use? Done. Blood tests to make sure neither of them have a disease? Done once daily for the last four days.

Feeling reassured that he has prepared as best as he can, he gets out and dries off, pulling his sleeping pants on but not bothering with underwear, socks, or a shirt. Slightly nervous now that he is about to do something he had been considering for the last few months he opens the bathroom door and stops dead in his tracks as he looks around the flat.

All of the lights are off, but there is a cheery fire going in the fireplace, sweet smelling candles have been carefully placed around the room in spots where the chances of them falling or catching fire is nearly non-existent. The coffee table has been cleared off of its clutter. Instead, there is a large candle in a violet hurricane lamp that is illuminating the small variety of refreshments placed there. All of them favorites of his and Johns. The normal rug that lays in front of the fire has been replaced with a plush dark colored one. A thing of lube is on the floor near the rug. The sofa and chairs have been shifted around to make extra room.

"How?" he questions as he looks around in shock, how had John done this so quickly?

John smiles, a soft chuckle escaping him, "I told the pack not to bother us for a bit while I as in my room, and when I got back down here, well you see what the girls did." Shrugging, his smile grows, "I think it was supposed to be a hint."

"Oh," he murmurs, somehow disappointed, so John hadn't done this.

Apparently John had understood his disappointment, because the shorter man strides over to him with purpose, eyes gleaming in the light, one hand lifting to brush the damp curls from his face. "Had I expected something like this to happen any time soon, I would have probably taught them a lesson or two in setting the scene, Sherlock," the wolf informs him. "I wasn't going to push the subject. I wanted it to be your choice."

Without giving him a chance to reply to that frankly silly statement, the shorter man carefully pulls his head down and kisses him. If the kisses earlier were hot because of the desperation that fueled them, these kisses were even hotter because of the blatant desire fueling them. Somehow we went from standing there, lips locked together as we each explored the other's mouth to being reclined on that new rug, still locked together as if the only thing needed was the other one.

Moaning low in his throat, the warmth he had noticed earlier has returned with a vengeance, causing his entire body to ache in ways that he barely understands. Though John seemed to understand as his smaller hands go from cradling his face to gently touching each and every part of his body not covered by his sleeping pants. Each touch is careful, yet not, and he delights in the feeling even as his mind overloads and he stops thinking only feeling, he will process it all later when he is not enthralled by it all.

Slowly, as John shifts him back on the extremely soft rug, he finds himself begging even as John begins to kiss, lick, and nip his way across his body, paying close attention to the spots that make him arch and gasp. He had never imagined that anything would feel this good, it was even better high then the heroin. When his short friend gets to the top of his sleeping pants, he traces the edge of them, glancing up at him with passion filled eyes that are questioning. He finds he cannot answer aloud so settles for nodding as his lover slowly pulls them down.

Normally he would not have been embarrassed to be seen by another man, but this wasn't just any man, this was John. John who was worshipping his body with his hands and lips and tongue and nose. John who's eyes were devouring him whole even as he maintains eye contact. John who knew of his history and seemed to want him anyways.

"John please," he finds himself gasping as the smaller man licks and kisses his way down the rest of his stomach and tracing his hip, totally ignoring the part of him that is hard and aching for attention, precum already beginning to bead on its tip. "Please," his voice is a high pitch whine of need.

"Relax love, enjoy, I'll not leave you needing long," comes the breathy response against his left hip the blonde man runs the flat of his tongue down his leg to suck at the back of the knee, causing him to arch and gasp for air in need. He can feel the smile on the other man's lips as he continues his track downwards to his foot, carefully touching every part of it before curling the tip of his tongue around his big toe before repeating that behavior with each the other ones before moving on to do the same on the other foot.

Perhaps if he was more used to the reactions that John's touch was causing he would have been able to do more than lay there moaning and gasping, arching and begging, as his lover slowly explores every inch of him.

By the time John had gotten back to his waist he swore he could see spots, and he was wholly unprepared for the feeling of the smaller man's lips as they brushed against his head and sent a bolt of electricity through him.

"Do you want me to continue?" the shorter man inquired, his breath ghosting against his aching member and causing it to bob with need.

"Don't stop! Please don't stop!" he begs, not above doing anything he has to feel that glorious sensation that had flooded his body with John's lips against him.

Smiling against him, the blonde man settles himself between his thighs, resting his bodyweight on his elbows as one hand slowly strokes from the top of his cock down to the root and the other slowly massages his balls. Then just when he starts to adjust to that, he takes his entire length in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and allowing it against the back of his throat.

The feeling is incredible. Unable to help himself he bucks his hips, only to find that they will not move as John shifts his elbows to rest against his legs, holding him in place as he continues to uses his hands and mouth to work him over. After what seems like an internity but he is sure is only a few minutes a coiling feeling builds up low in his stomach much like the feeling he gets on the rare occasions he touches himself.

"John," he whimpers, trying again to arch, it is a warning and a plea, though why he is not sure. John merely smiles at him around his cock, the flat of his tongue running up the vein on the bottom of it to collect the precum gathering at the tip. Before he knows it, he is almost screaming in pleasure as the shorter man milks him dry, swallowing all of the cum that he has to give.

Bonelessily, he lays there, gasping for breath. It was amazing. Wonderful. Perfect. Wait. What about John's needs?

He is just about to ask, when the shorter man changes positioning so he is kneeling with his legs on either side of his hips. "Are you sure?" the blond inquires as a low whine of need escapes his lips. Leaning forward, he kisses him slowly before kissing his way across his jaw to nibble on his ear. Huskily, voice full of need, he repeats himself, "Are you sure? You have to be sure Sherlock."

"John!" he gasps, his erection already coming back despite the fact his body feels like an over cooked noodle. "Please, please, please, please, John," his voice has whine to it, but has went lower than he has ever heard it pitched. Later he would be embarrassed by the fact he is begging, but not right now.

After one more nip to his ear, the shorter man sits back up, as he snags the bottle of lub and care warms some on his palm before rubbing it along his length. He can do nothing but stare at the sight, finding it to be more erotic than he ever would have guessed watching another man prepare himself to be. His eyes widen as he feels one shorter finger tracing the rim of his hole before carefully working its way in. Gasping, his hips lift though he cannot tell if he wants more or for it to stop.

The feeling of having someone touching him like that is overwhelming and for a while nothing more happens then John slowly fists himself while he moves a single finger in and out of him. At first he wonders why, then he realizes that he is making sure he is adjusted. When the sensation begins to not be enough, he pushes down on that digit seeking more and a cocky grin curls John's lips as a second finger slips in and he starts scissoring them, widening his entrance a bit more. Sooner than he had inserted the second he inserts a third finger and that has him gasping. It's such a different feeling, not unpleasant but not familiar.

All thoughts about it vanish as one finger starts to brush against his prostate. Again he is startled by the frankly needy sounds escaping him as the shorter man prepares him. He is just shy of coming again when the fingers suddenly withdraw, leaving him feeling empty.

"John," he groans, voice almost unrecognizable as his own.

"It's alright Sherlock, shhhh, I'll take care of you," he murmurs as he stops fisting himself and lifts his hips just a bit, pulling him closer. One moment he feels empty and the next the tip of John's cock is pushing against his entrance seeking entrance. Slowly, oh so slow that he feels every inch the shorter man slides in until he is embedded to the hilt inside him. For a moment he does not move, instead gives `him a moment to adjust before slowly beginning to move in smooth slides that pull him almost completely out before thrusting back in, brushing against his prostate on each one.

He thought that the feelings had been overwhelming with just the shorter man's fingers in him it was nothing compared to the feel of him actually inside him. The sensation was amazing in ways he could barely comprehend and he finally understood why people risked so much for this.

As his body adjusted he realized that so was John, his pace picking up ever so slightly with every thrust until he was arching and begging, pleading with him for more and more he gave. He could tell when John started getting close because the easy rhythm he had been doing slowly gave way to something more primal and wild, one of his smaller hands slipped from where it was holding his hip to start stroking his cock in time with John's thrusts and moments later both men were coming with blinding force and groaning the others name.

Slowly, John pulled himself out of his body, reaching for the bowl he had seen sitting under the table with a cloth beside it. Carefully the smaller man cleans both of them, before lying down beside him, resting on one arms as he brushes the curls out of his face with a smile.


	37. Together: Round 2

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

_Hi everyone, we are back to our regularly scheduled chapters now, enjoy. _

* * *

_Chapter 37  
__John's POV  
_For a long while after the two of them make love on the living room floor, they lay on the comfortable rug enjoying the fire. His bondmate drifts in and out of sleep, resting with his dark-haired head on his arm. Eventually he joins him in drifting in and out of sleep. He is awoken to Sherlock jerking upright, breathing heavy, and he is awake and alert in an instance looking for the threat, when he realizes that there is nothing, he lays back and smiling.

Lifting his left wrist he studies the small circle, watching as it changes. It will be forty-eight hours before the final pattern is done. It appears as if it is going to be a spiral design. Smiling, he looks over at his lover and bondmate, studying the sharp edged man as he sits back and looks around.

"Hey, love, how are you feeling?" he inquires, sitting up and stretching.

His dark head tilts a little as he glances over at him. lifting his right arm he looks at his wrist frowning, before he reaches over to grab his, staring at the mark that is morphing on his arm. "I don't have a mark. Why don't I have a mark?" he mutters as he compares our wrists.

Rotating his arm around, he slips his fingers against the taller mans arm and tugs him into his embrace, "Hey, calm down, don't worry, it will appear. If I am not mistaken it can take a little while for humans to form the mark once they accept the bond because their bodies actually have to produce the pigments. Your pack marks are made of psionic energy, the bondmark however is a permanent mark that only goes away upon the death of one of the partners."

"Oh," his tall bondmate murmurs in response. He looks like he is about to say something else but he ducks his head and starts blushing when his stomach starts to growl.

Smiling, he scoots closer to the table and opens one of the see-through bowels, grabbing a piece of cantaloupe and offering it to the picky man. Eyes narrow, the dark-haired human considers it for a moment before accepting it. He watches him as he chews it to see what his reaction is. When he seems to enjoy it, he picks a piece of honey-melon out and offers it to him, waiting until he has taken it before grabbing a piece for himself. Several peaceful moments pass with him alternating between eating fruit and feeding fruit to his mate.

Eventually he gets thirsty, and not wanting the water that the girls had so nicely left for them in an ice bucket on the snack table he inquires, "Would you like some tea?"

His dark-haired bondmate nods, looking around the room at the candles that do not appear to have gone down much. He can just about hear the experiment forming in the taller man's mind. Smiling, he kisses him slowly, until both of them are breathing heavy before he goes to make them a cup of tea each. A few minutes later, he is back in the living room, Sherlock does not appear to have moved.

Sniffing the air, he finds that his bondmate is mostly content, however he is also slightly worried and aroused as well. Well lets deal with the worry first, he thinks, then we can get to the aroused part. Handing the tall human his cup, he settles onto the comfy rug beside him and sips at his. The silence is companionable, not uncomfortable as they drink.

"So we need to have little bit better of a talk than the one we had in the kitchen, Sherlock." He eventually states, turning to face his handsome bondmate, appreciating the fact that he has not redressed.

"Why? Hasn't it all been covered?" the tall human inquires pouty, the worry in his scent increasing slightly.

Setting his now empty mug down he replies, "That was not really a conversation, we should have a proper conversation. First do you have any questions about the bond?"

He shakes his dark-haired head, answering, "No, both Cyanne and Daria were careful to explain the role of a bondmate, how the bond is formed, and anything else they thought might be useful for me to know. You said it could take some time for the mark to appear."

He smiles, "Alright, now you realize it is a life-long thing, there is no breaking it except through death?"

The taller man nods, giving a small shrug, "I wasn't attracted to other people anyways, so that is no big loss." He pauses, a slight blush staining his skin as he looks down for a moment before looking up to comment, "I'm happy its life long, you won't leave me for someone better, someone easier to deal with. Everyone leaves me and it ties you to me so you won't."

He chuckles at that, leaning forward to capture the taller mans lips in a gentle kiss, before pulling back to murmur, "Even if we were not bondmates, your pack, and pack is never left behind by choice."

The taller man smiles, leaning forward to kiss him, one long fingered hand coming to rest against the back of his jaw below his ear, finger tips sunk into his dirty blonde hair.

When they are both breathing heavy he breaks the kiss to chuckle, querying, "Do we wish to make this public, or continue on as we have in public as if we are just flatmates?" Concern and confusion mars the taller mans scent as he considers it. Before he can get the wrong idea, he states, "I will be happy either way, I want you to be comfortable with the choice however."

"For now let's continue as we have been," he answers slowly.

He nods, "Now about that little episode in the kitchen, never surprise me like that when we were just in a life or death situation, I am soldier first and foremost, if it was not for the wolf in me you would be dead."

"But I knew you'd never hurt me," his tall bondmate protests.

He gives the taller man a look, not saying a word aloud. Apparently he got the point because he eventually nods once, his scent accepting the truth of his statement.

"One last thing we have to cover from my end, if there is ever something, anything you are uncomfortable with between us, I want you to tell me immediately. I don't care how minor you think it is, tell me." he informs the tall human.

His dark-haired human nods once, looking at him closely, before asking, "Can I touch you like you did me?"

He nods once solemnly, smiling, "Of course, explore to your heart's content, we've got two days before anyone is going to bother us, Jacob, Eric, and Daria will see to that." Stretching, he sprawls on the rug, snagging a pillow from the chair closest to him to rest his head on as he invites his tall bondmate to explore to his heart's content.

Without hesitation, his tall bondmate leans forward to kiss him, moist of his body brushing against his as he does so, electing a moan out of him. Slowly the taller man kisses him with curiosity, his tongue brushing against his lips before taking the time to explore every inch of his mouth. When both of them are breathing heavily, the taller man pulls back just the slightest, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth, making him moan low in his throat. With infinite patience as if this is the most important experiment he could ever do, Sherlock moves from kissing his lips to brushing his lips over every part of his face. His tongue tracing the outline of his features even as his lips brush against them slowly.

It was pure pleasure and ever so hard not to move around because he wanted to flip his mate and take control, but one of the things he had always excelled at understanding what his partner needed. Currently his partner needed free-reign to get used to his body.

Thought however were wiped clear from his mind as Sherlock stared using his long fingers to slowly trace over every inch of his body, followed closely by his mouth, tongue, and nose. He doesn't bother trying to control his reactions, preferring instead to show them instead. How was his bondmate ever going to learn anything without having the actual data to work with?

When Sherlock's lips brush against the star-burst scar, he tenses up a little bit before forcing his body to relax.

"Does it hurt?" the tall man inquires as he sits up a little to look down at him in concern.

He gives a shake of his head, replying, "Not really, part of it has no feeling in it, other parts are super sensitive." Giving a small shrug, he states, "Only Daria and I have touched it since she got me away from the human surgeons."

"Oh," his partner murmurs before returning to exploring his chest, the flat of his tongue running the length of every scar in sight.

Soon he is lost to the sensations of being the one whose body is being worshiped. It is such a different feeling from when he is the one doing the worshipping. While he had had lovers in the past who had explored him, they had not pay nearly as close attention to his reactions. By the time his dark-haired bondmate gets to his cock, he is breathless from moaning and groaning, enjoying every touch.

"Can I?" the tall man inquires, motioning towards his member.

He nods once, "Whatever you would like, love."

A slow smile pulls at his human's lips as he shifts his positioning to mimic his of earlier in the morning with his body stretched out between his legs, arms pressing carefully against his legs to hold them in place as his hands take to exploring him.

Oh, it's going to be a long day, he thinks as Sherlock first uses his dexterous fingers on him before adding his mouth and nose to the mix to make him a mindless, whimpering hunk of flesh. Every time he thinks that he is going to get close, the taller man backs off for a bit, allowing his blood to cool before starting over.

Eventually it becomes too much and as his bondmate's tongue takes a swipe up his length, he moans, "Sher-lock," just before his hips arch and he comes all over his stomach as the tall human pulls back. Panting, he lays there, watching the tall man with hooded eyes.

With a curious look of focus, his bondmate slowly runs his tongue across the mess on his stomach before sitting back and losing himself in his mind. Lazily, he reaches over to the bowel of water and rag, grabbing one to carefully wipe his stomach clean before throwing the rag back in the now cool water. While his partner processes, he relaxes, drowsing because he knows that there is still more to come. Sure enough, just a little bit later, his bondmate goes back to exploring his body.

"Roll over," he requests.

Nodding, he does so, stretching as he does so, arching his spine to show off his back muscles and ass.

Where he had included the legs and lower in his explorations, at this point, his mate is sticking only to his top half but he is being so thorough that is more than enough.

"You're aesthetically pleasing. Gorgeous really," his human murmurs softly against his spine as his lips ghost over him.

He smiles even as he moans at the feeling.

When one long, slender finger brushes his hole he is not surprised at it. Nor is he surprised as those same long fingers take to exploring with a keen interest until he is arching off of the rug towards that hand.

"Can I? I realize I am technically the female in the bond but…" his tall human does not get a chance to finish that statement as he twists around and sinks his fingers into his dark curls kissing him silent.

"We're equals. We are both males. If you wish to take turns with topping, that's not a problem." He growls huskily to his human, tongue flicking out to trace his lips for a moment before he goes back sprawling on the rug.

Again his human returns to tracing his entrance before his sense of smell tells him he has grabbed the lube and is warming it in his hands before slicking himself and fingering his hole again. Sighing, he arches into the touch, enjoying the way his partner is careful with him. Finally, when he seems as if he can get no closer, those long fingers withdraw leaving him feel rather empty. That feeling does not last long as a moment later he is there, his heaviness pressing against him before slowly sliding in, well greased by the lube.

The feeling is different than when he is inside a female, and for a moment he concentrates on it, getting used to it. Apparently so is his bondmate who has not moved yet as he holds himself above him with his long arms. Slowly though, the dark-haired human begins to slide and he finds that all forms of thought flee as he enjoys the sensations. He is actually considering touching himself when one of those long arms wraps around his waist and comes to rest so his slender fingers can touch him as he moves. It's simply splinded and he is embarrassed by how quickly he finds himself cumming on the rug. Though he focuses on tightening his muscles and moments later, Sherlock is shouting as he comes too.

Falling to their sides, they just lay there connected for a few minutes catching their breath before his tall human pulls back and reaching for the bathing rag. With infinite care the taller man cleans both of them before tossing the rag aside and laying back on the floor tiredly.

He spins around so he is facing him and smiles at him softly. "Thank you," he murmurs, brushing the dark curls away from his face where they have started to stick to his sweat covered body.

"Thank you?" he repeats, his tone curious.

Nodding, he uses one hand to trace patterns on his bondmates chest, not really paying attention to the fact that they are the runes for protection, good health, and love. "Yes, thank you. You didn't have to choose this, we could have kept up with what we were doing. After all, you're the one who told me you were married to your work," he answers the tall human, his voice low and husky.

With his eyes partly closed, his dark-haired bondmate nods a little, "Thank you for deciding I was your match, according to Mouse you had two choices and you picked me," there is wonder in his voice as if it is the first time has picked him.

Kissing his shoulder he lays down and pulls his tall human close, allowing for his head to lay against his shoulder as the two of them drift off to sleep again.


	38. Together: Round 3

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 38  
__John's POV  
_It is several hours before the two of them awaken. This time and when he does awake it is to sharp pains as the muscles in his shoulder protest his rough treatment of it. Shifting on instincts, he forgets for a moment that his lover is not used to him changing so quickly, and startles the tall human who had just been waking up. One moment his mate is beside him, the next moment, he is jumping backwards, smacking his head into the fireplace. Almost instantly he has returned to his human form, shuffling forward to check on him.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, so sorry." His voice is worried as he carefully checks his bondmates skull, relieved when he does not find anything wrong with him with either check. "I don't normally sleep in a room with someone who is not used to my shifting. So I forgot for a moment that you're not accustomed to me shifting between forms."

Worriedly, he uses just a touch of iota power to relieve any bruising before it has a chance to form.

"What was that?" his dark-haired bondmate demands, eyes wide as he stares at the fingers that had just left his scalp.

"Iota gift, I made sure there was not going to be a bruise since it was my fault." He replies with a small shrug.

"Oh." for a minute his human stares at him before stating, "I would like to touch your fur."

Smiling slightly, he nods before he shifts back to his wolf form. Sitting there calmly while his mate starts petting him, running his long fingers through the fur and feeling the different textures based on where the fur is at. Relaxing, he enjoys the feeling, and it takes him a minute to realize that Sherlock has figured out ever discoloration matches up with one of his human scars. He was also murmuring what he thought had made the scar, as if doing so would make them better. It was a completely adorable thing to do.

When he hears his bondmates stomach start to growl, he chuckles even as he shifts forms, resulting in him having an arm-full of indignant human who had been shocked by the shift.

"Why'd you do that?" his dark-haired human inquires as he absently traces a scar on his stomach.

Kissing the humans shoulder he replies, "Because we're both getting hungry, and don't try telling me your not, your stomach gave it away."

The look of betrayal the tall man gives his stomach is ever so hilarious, as he lets go so he can go make some food. Checking the fridge he is surprised to find there is actually food in it and not just body parts. Got to love Daria, he thinks as he grabs some stuff out and heads to the stove. She probably had Eric check in the back of my head while I was getting cleaned up the other night and bought food accordingly since it is all stuff that Sherlock will eat.

While he cooks, he hums, not realizing that it is one of the songs that his bondmate often plays on his violin. Apparently his mate had realized because a moment later he is playing the song that he was just humming on his violin. When the food is done, he carefully makes up a tray and carries it out into the living room to place on the table. By the time he has it all arranged, his bondmate has finished the song and carefully puts his violin up before joining him at the small table, sitting down on the rug beside him to take his small plate of food and tea.

The two eat in silence, his tall human picking carefully at the food. "John."

"Yeah Sherlock?" he replies, waiting to see what else he has to say.

"How long were you in the army? You're a captain. Which says not long, but you said you knew Eric for ten years, the math does not match." He inquires after finishing his next bite.

A wistful smile curves his lips, "I went into the army at twenty, the condition of me doing so by the pack alpha was that I had to go to officer school in order to enlist as an officer instead of a regular soldier. My first week there I was paired off with a falcon and a black cobra who had decided to team up as the only shifters in our training group. The three of us together to pull of stunts entire teams could not do and while we were in class we got along fine with each other. Outside of training and class however, Eric was a complete and utter ass. Jacob and I became fast friends, we were both elites of our varieties training with a bunch of humans with either little natural talent whose families had paid for them to go to officers training or humans who were older than us and had earned their way into the program." He pauses looking back, "Eric joined our friendship when the two of us came across him fighting with some of the regular enlisted shifters who thought it was a good idea to bait the person who could easily kill them because he was on his own. It was the first time I used the alpha gift on someone other than a fellow wolf during my training. After that, the three of us worked together in nearly everything, but we had not created the pack link at that point. That wouldn't come for another three years."

He watches his bondmate narrow his eyes, the wheels just about spinning in his head. "Captain is only two ranks higher than that, why didn't you go up in ranks?"

He chuckles, "Well technically its classified, I mean, even your brother couldn't get the files and I am sure he has already tried. I was a regular army doctor for three years, which is how I got to the rank I am at. Then there was a situation that the higher ups thought was unsalvageable, at that time the military pack had four members in it, Jacob, Eric, Cyanne, and me. We had actually only recently formed the pack bond and were still feeling it out but we decided to see if we could do what all the 'specialized' humans could not. We succeeded. When we were done, one of the commanders for the shadow units approached me about our team joining the shadow units, it meant that our ranks would not change much but we would no longer be within the normal chains of command. After a quick conference in our heads we agreed. We had actually been on a mission when I was shot."

His bondmate nods slowly as he considers it, then looking over at him smiles, "Well that explains why you seem so used to being in command and fading into the shadows." Narrowing his eyes he asks, "Can you do a mixed form the way Eric does?"

Chuckling, he shifts to the hybrid form rather than saying anything. Short, golden fur covers his entire body. His face elongates slightly as his mouth and nose become a short version of his wolf's muzzle. Pads appear on the underside of his feet and all of his nails are replaced with claws. His ears go from being regular human ears to the large wolf ears that are erect. He also grows in height by several inches and is very happy that he is not dressed at the moment since it is hell on clothing.

_**Well here you go, me as a hybrid. I cannot control it nearly as well as Eric, but then he is always in hybrid form, changing how much of so based on his needs, I rarely use this form. **_He tells him as his bondmate starts to explore his body.

Like with his wolf form, his bondmate carefully takes the time to identify every single mark on him. Long, slender fingers touch, brush, and sink into his fur as he explores his body. Only it has a noticeable effect on him, and after a while he shifts back to being fully human in order to catch his bondmate around the waist and kiss him silly.

Sherlock's long fingers came up to hold him in place as he kissed him back, both men taking the time explore each other's mouths in turn. Neither the dominate one in the exchange, instead giving and taking equally.

By the time the two of them are equally aroused, he suggests, "Shall we actually take it to the bedroom this time?" against his lovers lips. He can feel the smile in response and the two of them make it to his bondmates room in that it is the closer room.

The next several hours pass in a blur for the couple as they take turns exploring and pleasing, teasing and enjoying. They stop twice to sleep for a bit before picking up where they had left off, and once to more to eat. However by the time the forty-eight hours is up, the two of them had christened every room in the flat at least once. He was highly pleased by the fact that Mrs. Hudson wasn't home, because this was a lot like one of his weekends when he was in uni with a female wolf shifter.

Just a little bit after six p.m. there was a soft knock at the door stairs door before he heard the lock click and it slowly swing open, it was their warning to get dressed. Reaching over, he grabs a throw blanket off the back of the sofa and tosses it to his bondmate who is stretched out on the rug before shifting into his wolf form and waiting for the viper he can smell coming up the steps to get there sooner than later.

_Evening Elder, Elder-second, I will trust by the over-whelming scent of you two that it has been a pleasant forty-eight hours. I am here to make sure that there was no lingering harm from the pool incident. _She tells them, keeping her mouth firmly shut and using the pack link.

_**Check him if you'd like, but I am sure we are both fine.**_ He replies, waving one large paw towards his bondmate.

She nods, stepping over to where the tall human is sprawled on the rug just relaxing. The scent of their last coupling is still strong in the air.

Barely hovering her hand over top of his head her eyes glaze over and he can feel as she sends her power seeking. While he is an iota, he does not use his gifts as often, so she is insuring that he had missed nothing in his check of his bondmate. It is perfectly acceptable. Once she has done that she turns her attention to him, stepping over and placing her slender fingers against the side of his skull below his ear. After repeating the process she nods.

_You're both surprisingly healthy, I would say that is your gift insuring the link. _She tells them, then the link changes and he knows she is speaking only to him, _his mind is fighting the bonding, the mark will not appear until he has fully accepted that you are a permanent part of his life. However the bond is still strong. Both of you should develop the bond gifts despite that. I believe his gift is going to be a minor gift of rememberancy. I cannot tell what yours is, your nature is blocking me. _

_**Thank you Daria, now go away, we need to get cleaned up before Mrs. Hudson gets here.**_ He replies to the viper, inclining his large golden head respectfully.

She nods, bidding both of them farewell before she leave, locking the door behind her.

"So why was she using telepathy to speak instead of talking aloud?" his tall bondmate inquires after she is gone.

Shifting, he chuckles and replies, "Snakes can smell with their tongues, even in their human forms Daria, Nathan, and Eric tend to keep their mouth shut when there are strong smells around because they notice them better than anyone else." He shrugs, "their sense of smell even out does the wolf's sense of smell. Since right now our flat smells strongly of us, she did not want to have that good a whiff."

Upon realizing what he means the tall human's light skin turns a lovely shade of pink, nearly his entire body is part of the blush which just makes him smile even more.

"Come on, we should probably get cleaned up and get back to the real world at some point in the near future. Possibly air this flat out before our landlady gets home because even with her human nose I am sure she would be able to heavily smell the sex in the air." He suggests to his lover, watching as he stands and the small blanket falls to the floor.

His dark-haired human nods once distractedly, asking, "Shower together perhaps?" with a small smirk.

He nods, grinning mischievously and accompanies him to the shower, well Mrs. Hudson isn't due back for a few more hours…

* * *

AN: so that's the end of the smut marathon those two were having, now back to the regularly scheduled plotline.


	39. The Hills

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 39  
__Sherlock's POV  
_The following weeks after his discovery and realization about his relationship with John seem to go by in a flash for the tall man. He discovered that any time he ass bored all he had to do was tell his wolf that and something was found to cure his boredom. Sometimes it was John, pushing him against the wall and kissing him until he could barely breath and was begging the shorter man to take him. Other times John would shoo him out of the flat and tell him to go play with Eric, then the two of them would take turns hunting for the other one all across London. At other times Jace or one of the other pups from the pack would show up with a violin or one of the other instruments he plays, politely asking for lessons and actually listening as he taught them. Then there were the rare occasions he was invited to Eric's home, where he had a full science lab set up, one that put the lab at Bart's to shame.

There had been four very interesting cases in the last few weeks, along with several rather bland ones. With every case, his blogger had recorded the findings on a blog. He would have thought that people would be bored by it, yet it seemed to get all sorts of hits. They had just finished solving what John had suggested calling the 'Navel Treatment' and were getting ready to leave when Lestrade makes a comment about the press.

"There's a lot of press outside, guys."

He dismisses the press as meaningless, waving it off. "Well, they won't be interested in us," he murmurs distractedly.

Rather blandly, the fellow pack member continues talking, "Yeah, that was before you were an internet phenomenon. A couple of them specifically wanted photographs of you two."

Exasperated, he glances behind him to glare at his flatmate and lover, muttering, "For God's sake!"

John's lips just curl with a quirky smile.

They are just passing a room full of dressing supplies when he spots a pair of hats, grabbing one he tosses one at him, commanding, "Cover your face and walk fast."

Tossing the hat back at him, he replies, "No, just take my wrist," and offers his left arm.

For a moment he is confused before he recalls that his flatmate is able to go effective invisible when he needs to. Smiling, he drops the ugly hats back on the wrack before taking the offered arm. A jolt goes through him at the contact, remind him it had nearly three days since the last time the two of them had spent any time alone together that was not revolving around the Work. That would have to be fixed as soon as possible.

"Still, it's good for the public image, a big case like this." The silver haired man continues on, as if he had not noticed the two of them pausing.

Grumbling, he mutters, "I'm a private detective. The last thing I need is a public image."

Pushing the door open, the detective inspector goes out first, triggering a circus of cameras as the two of them walk out. He is highly nervous about it, but still continues to hold on to John's wrist for all he is worth.

Almost all the camera users are shouting because they cannot see the detective that they are to see, where is he at?

It's almost amusing, if not for the fact that it's really not. Sighing, he keeps hold of his flatmates wrist until they are well away from the scene and then continues to hold on because he wants the contact though he would never admit that aloud.

The two of them make their way to Angelo's though he is not sure why, until John is pushing him into a seat, and ordering for both of them. Somewhere along the way, his mind had phased out whatever it was that his partner was saying.

"John?" he quires, as he looks over at the shorter man from his spot at the table.

"Yes, Sherlock?" he replies, eyes skimming the menu as if he is trying to decide what to get when he always leaves it up to Angelo to surprise him.

Glancing around he asks, "Why are we here?"

His partner shrugs, answering, "I haven't been to the store in two weeks, and you have not eaten in three days. Since I know you will eat the food that they sell here, and you need to eat, here we are."

He frowns, glancing down, but nods once. Normally he would try and argue the point, but he knows on this one that John is probably right. Besides, for the most part, as long as he drinks the tea that John puts in front of him, the wolf tends not to hassle him too much about eating. He is pretty certain that his doctor flatmate is making the teas with extra vitamins in them because he has been feeling a lot healthier lately, and his body, while not fat, has gained some good muscle tone.

A few minutes later their orders are taken and the two of them are sitting in relative silence, just comfortable in each other's presence. He knows that when they get home, his blogger will probably post a blog about the case, though he will not mention how they slipped past the press without getting their pictures taken, instead, he will leave it to them to try and figure out. Part of him is curious what the pictures will show since they were effectively invisible, but he does not feel like trying to break in and find out.

Apparently, he does not need to as he spots his annoying brother coming into Angelo's, umbrella firmly in hand.

"Sherlock, Dr. Watson," his brother drawls, his posh voice grating on his nerves. All he wants is some time with his lover to enjoy his meal in peace.

"Mycroft," his bondmate replies intentionally annoying the taller man by calling him by his first name.

Frowning, the ginger haired man gives his flatmate an icy look which he smiles and ignores as he sips at his tea. Upon deciding that it is not working, he turns his attention to him instead, "How did you get out of that building today without a single picture of you being taken?" he inquires, his eyes narrow as he studies him.

Shrugging, he doesn't greet his brother or ask him to sit, he is hoping he will go away quickly because he really does not feel like dealing with him right now.

"It would be in your best interest to tell me Sherlock," his brother tries to intimidate him, but it fails miserably.

Still ignoring him, he looks over at John, inquiring, "Did Eric say when he was going to be over again next?"

His flatmate smirks at him shrugging, "With him, whoever knows," he states in response.

Just about growling, his brother turns and walks away but not without giving John one last scathing look.

After he is gone, his short friend rolls his eyes, "Eric is scarier. I think your brother needs lessons."

A chuckle escapes him at the idea of his uptight brother in the same room with the sharp tempered black cobra.

The rest of their lunch goes smoothly, the two of them chatting easily about the case that they just completed and some of the cold files that they have waiting for them back home. One thing he always appreciates about his flatmate is his willingness and pleasure in discussing the Work with him. While they do talk of other matter as well, mostly pack related, the vast majority of their conversations are about cases he wishes to look into or things he desires to learn about. Another thing he appreciates is the fact that he is not forced to speak of his emotions. John allows them to just work things through, without having to talk about every little detail, though there are times when he does sit him down and force him to discuss things when they are bothering him too much.

Once they are done eating, the two of them grab their coats and bid Angelo farewell before heading out the door and down the road towards Baker Street. They are just about home when a high pitch shriek almost makes him jump.

"John!" a slender woman with very long black hair comes rushing up to them, her eyes excited as she throws her arms around his lover. "How wonderful to just see you here like this! I was going to track down Harry and see when the next pack meeting was but this is just perfect! You look great for someone who tried to die twice, let me get a good look at you!"

He growls low in his throat, not even realizing it until his lover turns to look at him from within the strangers grasp.

"Melisa, let go," his blonde haired lover commands, voice low.

She does so, mildly shocked according to the look on her face but he can barely see it. In his mind he can see the two of them, younger than they are now, embracing, his arms wrapped possessively around her as he takes her from behind. Shaking his head to break the image, it doesn't go away, instead changing to a different time, this time they are out to eat and she is flirting with him shamelessly.

Frowning, he is startled when he realizes that his lover has taken hold of his right arm and pressed their dominate wrists together, as he murmurs, "Relax Sherlock, it will pass in a moment, whatever you see is deep in the past, nothing new."

How, he wonders for a moment before recalling the link between them. There had been several times when John had pulled him out of one of those visions by doing what he was doing right now.

The strange female is watching us, and he just wants to make her leave. To be far away from this threat to the bond he is trying to form with his bondmate. He's his. He does not intend to share him so she can just go if that's what she is thinking.

"Melisa," his lover murmurs, as he half turns, hand still grasping his, "this is my bondmate and alpha-second Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock, this is Melisa Hill, a member of the pack who has been in France for the last few years."

He looks at her, studying her for a moment and reading her entire life story as he does so. Since being around shifter for the last several month he is finally getting a feel for reading them the same way he reads everyone else, though there are still some things that he cannot seem to grasp. She is just a little younger than John, takes care of herself, has a bondmate, at least two children, and a pet dog of a fairly large breed. According to her clothing style she is a primary school teacher working with small children.

Slowly, he shakes john's hand off in order to offer his wrist to her in the proper greeting of alpha-second to low-level pack member. Inclining her head, she politely accepts the wrist, bowing her head so he could see the pack markings on her suddenly exposed neck. He frowns when he realizes that they are not his pack markings.

"John?" he questions.

His bondmate studies her for a moment, before looking past her to where a tall man with dark brown hair and rather plain features is standing with one child beside him and another in his arms. There is worry on the strangers faces, and both children seem to be fretful as well.

"Straighten up Melisa, and explain why that child is so ill. Now." John's voice is soft but full of command.

"Elite Alpha Watson, Alpha-second Holmes, this is my bondmate Philip Hill, our daughter Mara, and her brother Paul." She introduces formally, "I have come to request on behalf of our family the re-admittance into the Watson Pack."

"Accepted, now tell me about how a pack child can be so sick, and hand him here." John tells the woman, not even waiting for a response out of her bondmate before he takes the child and heads towards their flat.

He tilts his head sideways, feeling the pull of energy that surrounds his lover every time he accesses his healing gifts.

Falling in step just a little behind and to the right, she begins to speak, "After the Flowers, I went to visit some family in Paris, brushed into this handsome guy and felt the weirdest burn in my life. Two days later I had a mark on my wrist, but no idea who it was for. My aunt presented me to each of the local packs to see if they had any that had recently developed bondmarks but no bondmate. Took three months but I found him. Actually, it was right on time for my heat." She pauses, blushing, and Sherlock realizes that the images he had seen in his head earlier were from one of those heats spent with his John. "Formal courting occurred, and the bondmarking was accepted. It was lovely, unexpected, beautiful. Only one problem, which pack to call home? Your uncle was a very generous man but he did not want a foreign wolf in his pack, so while I was allowed to keep my ties to the Watson pack, I was not to bring my foreign bondmate. So I joined his pack instead."

She stops as they get to the flat and stays at the door until his short mate waves her in but she still does not move, she is staring at him. Then he remembers what Cyanne had said about the alpha-second spot, you're the one in charge of the domestics, if you disapprove, a person can be removed from the pack, property, or both. Rolling his eyes, he waves her in as well, telling her to continue. The small family carefully find a spot to settle but do not sit since they were not offered seats. Eventually, he gets frustrated by their standing and snaps at them to park it, and all three do, right where they are sitting.

"His pack accepted me, but only on his behalf. After all, we bonded, thus we could produce wolf children, who would want to lose them to another pack? First few years went quickly, then Mara was born, she was sickly, but the iota was able to help her. Then two years ago I got pregnant again, only it wasn't an easy pregnancy. If it could go wrong it did at least once, I had all three iota's in the pack at their wits end. When I gave birth to Paul, we hoped that things would start looking up but he kept getting sick no matter what the iota's did. Finally one of them decided to link with him and declared he was dying, it would be better if we left him for the elements." Her eyes burn with an inner fire as she speaks.

"That night I packed all of our things while Philip was at work. When he got home I told him we were coming to my home, to my pack. I had heard that Alpha Eric had died and hoped that you would still be the same John you had been." She looks over at her bondmate for a minute with a small smile, "You always did the impossible, so I was hoping you would do so again."

As he listens, he watches the way the male hovers at her side, trying to be supportive but clearly feeling out of place. Their daughter is being much to quiet for a child, so he decides to take his time and talk to her, only a little aware of how closely her parents are watching.

"Mara," he states, holding out his right arm wrist up.

She hides behind her father's leg for a moment before sneaking a look at him. He smiles mischievously at the girl, trying for comforting. Slowly she sneaks out carefully laying her wrist against his. He feels the tingle as the pack link connects and he is almost surprised because he had never started a link before, only closed them.

He almost misses when her mother states, "When I saw you, that same easy going smile on your face, I couldn't help but be overjoyed you hadn't changed, you were still my John, and that meant my babies would be fine."

Turning, he looks over at John who is in his chair with the child laying on his knees. He watches as a soft glow comes from the hand resting on the child's forehead to envelop the entire little body. Slowly, the glow fades out and the little boy lets out a weak cry, which has both of his parents intently focused on him.

"Alpha-second," the tiny girl still holding his arm murmurs as she squeezes his arm a little.

He turns to look at her, "Call me Sherlock," he tells her.

"Sherlock," she repeats obediently before asking, "is my brother going to live?"

He smiles and nods, "Yes, John is very good at healing, he will be fine."

She smiles, letting go of his arm and retreating to her father again who merely picks her up without taking his eyes off the baby.

Silence fills the flat as his bondmate continues to work on the child, finally, he mutters, "Paul Hill has been accepted into the Watson pack. Now come get your baby and stop stinking up our flat."

Melisa moves forward quickly, gathering the little boy up and repeatedly thanking John.

John rolls his eyes, motioning for Mara to come to him with a soft smile. She does so without any hesitation, climbing up on his lap with the ease only a small child can achieve. Again a soft glow comes from John as he carefully touches the little girl, a startled gasp escapes her. A moment later she is running back over to her father.

"Mara Hill has been accepted into the Watson pack." His lover states.

The other male wolf keeps his head bowed, it is obvious that he does not expect to be accepted, so it explains the shocked look when John offers his left arm, wrist up, with a smile. Slowly, the second wolf accepts, keeping his head bowed as the pack markers change on his neck.

"Philip Hill, welcome to the Watson pack." John states as he still holding the man's arm. Again he glows softly, this time focusing on the man in front of him. A few minutes later a satisified smirk curls his mates lips. "You will not be having any more children with that particular illness, I have wiped it from your code, no children they have or father will have it either. They are completely healthy now."

The female smiles at him tearly, holding the baby close, "Thank you John."

He shrugs, then states, "Now then, your all healthy, go use the Watson pack house as somewhere to stay until you are on your feet instead of that hotel I am sure you are considering. But go away, I want time with my mate."

The two adults nods, and he watches as the wolf male takes the little girls hand and leads her with her mother and brother away.

Almost as soon as they are gone, he finds himself pinned to his spot by his short lover who is kissing him with a passion. When they break apart breathing heavily, his lover informs him, "You're all I need, never feel the need to get jealous over anyone again. Understand?"

He nods once, kissing his lover back, trying to express with his touch what he cannot bring himself to say.


	40. June Pack Meeting

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

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_Chapter 40  
__Sherlock's POV  
_Not even a week later was the next pack meeting out to the Watson property. He was not sure he really wanted to go, that female who had dared to call John hers would be there. Wait. That's a perfect reason to go. In order to prove that he might be a human but he was a good and supportive mate. With that decided he makes sure to dress the part of someone in charge, one thing he has always been good at is dressing to whatever situation he was finding himself in. When he was done preparing, he carefully checks himself in the mirror, pleased to see that the dark purple silk shirt still fit perfectly and accented his coloring in a way that was sure to please John.

Just a few minutes later, he heard John come up the front stairwell, heading up into his room to change clothes and clean up.

Frowning, he tries to remember why they had separate rooms even though he slept with the wolf more often than not. That's right, he had request it so he could have his space. Now that they had been together for a few weeks he was considering requesting the opposite, that his John move into his room so that they could always be together. Isn't that what good mates do? Well he would have to think about it from all angles before actually making his choice, he did not want to make a rash one.

Less than ten minutes later, his wolf was standing by the door with a crooked smile on his face, "Ready?" he inquires, his light blue eyes carefully looking him over.

Nodding, he grabs his coat from its hook and swings it on, stopping next to his bondmate who reaches up to pull his face down for a long kiss before turning and heading up to the roof. Any time that his wolf decides to use his wolf form to take them anywhere he heads to the roof to shift since there is no cameras up there. Once on the roof he shifts into his beautiful golden wolf and kneels so he can easily get onto his back. He loves the feeling of being on John's back while he is running in wolf form. It is almost as if he is flying.

Shortly before the sun sets and the moon rises, the pair finally touch finish the run to the Watson home where the pack meeting will take place. He had just shifted back to human form when a motorcycle came roaring up the driveway, its barely even parked when Eric steps off, eyes watching the sky. Not two minutes later he sees why as a large black crow comes flying in. There are no crows in our pack, so why is there a crow here?

Gracefully landing, the crow shifts to a half-human form, with the majority of her body being human except the two massive black wings on her back that are partially fan out. She bows low to John, just a little less so to him, and then a slight inclination of her head to Eric.

"Elite Alpha Watson," she intones, her voice higher pitched, "On behalf of the Wilson Nest I request an audience."

Nodding once, his wolf shifts positioning just the slightest so he is standing to his left. His left? Oh. Left handed, left side for importance, Eric steps up to the right, his cobra's hood visible.

Bowing low again she continues to speak, "Elite Alpha of the Watson Pack, your permission to ask assistance of your alpha-second is requested. A situation has arisen that his unique abilities would be suited for. If it is convenient a vehicle will be sent in two days time at eleven am for your use."

Why is she asking permission from John to ask assistance? Is this one of those pack things? Frowning, he glances over to the cobra and raises an eyebrow, knowing that the cobra will understand the unspoken question.

_You are his bondmate, anything that could be potentially dangerous has to be vented through him or it could start a war. It is a sign or respect that they wish to ask you, because crows rarely look outside their own ranks for problem solving, and if they cannot figure it out, it means it could be difficult. Past that, you are human, your body does not heal like ours, if you were to be injured he could demand blood price from the entire nest and that is a terrifying option to the crows._ Comes the easy reply, images along with words explaining the custom from the cobra.

This was the crows trying to be respectful. It was also them recognizing his rank within the packs. Because he was human they could have dismissed his rank as worthless or decided he would not be worth asking. After all, Eric was just as smart, perhaps smarter.

_I might be smarter, but I am also far more deadly, no crow will ever willingly turn to a cobra, particularly not a black cobra who wears his scales openly. I am too much of a threat. _The cobra tells him with a chuckle, not surprising him in the least that he had been listening to his thoughts.

"If the Watson pack alpha-second wish he may do so," his John replies, his tone formal.

Smiling, he inclines his head slowly, accepting the offer. He is curious what could have them seeking out his help when shifters seems to be so self-reliant.

A massive smile curls the crows lips as she bows again, "My nests thanks Elite Alpha, alpha-second. With your permission I will relay this acceptance."

"Wind to your wings," his wolf tells the crow.

"Earth to your paws," she replies before bending a little and taking to the air, shifting as she gets higher up.

"So Tech, what's the problem?" his wolf inquires, turning to look over at the cobra once she is gone from sight.

The smile that he gives in response would be chilling to a lesser person, he merely finds it fascinating. "Would I do something like listen to her thoughts to determine that she was being honest, her den's elder-second has been poisoned and they cannot figure out how, and their den healer is worthless?"

A low chuckle escapes from his wolf as he just shakes his head before turning towards the house to go in.

The three of us fall in step, with John still in the middle, the cobra to the right, and him still to the left. However they are all pretty much equal footing with no one being a head of the others until they get to the door where the cobra reaches out and pulls it open for us to enter. With a quick nod of thanks to the taller man, he heads inside, mildly startled when the little girl from just few days earlier comes running up to hug him.

"Sherlock!" she cries as she wraps her small arms around his legs. "You were right! Paul is fine!" her voice is excited and her child-lisp almost unnoticeable over her French accent.

He smiles at the child, letting a hand brush against her smooth dark hair before she notices the cobra to the side and tries to hide behind his legs.

"Danger," she whispers staring at Eric with wide eyes.

Scooping her he shifts her to his side, stating, "Only if you plan to harm someone in this pack. Do you plan to do that?"

She shakes her head hard, mumbling, "No."

"Then he is no danger to you. He would protect you instead." He tells the small girl latching on to him for dear life as she stares hard at the cobra who is watching her with unblinking black eyes.

She nods once, laying her head against his shoulder and snuggling close to him.

The cobra merely smiles at the child, a small curve of his lips, before turning away and striding off with ease. He knows the exact instance the male wolf spots the cobra because a loud thump can be heard before a soft snarl rents the air.

"Eric, drop the newcomer, he was unaware," he hears John command from somewhere down the hall. A moment later another thump can be heard.

Mara starts to wiggle in his arms, so he sets her down and watches as she runs towards the noise. He just shakes his head and goes looking for the library he remembers seeing the last time he was here.

oOo

Three hours pass before one of the pups who he had previously met but whose name he does not recall comes to tell him that the official part of the meeting is starting. He nods, not really answering as he stands and puts the book on linage he had been reading away. It surprises him how closely the bloodlines of some of the pack members have been recorded.

Stretching he heads towards the area outside where the pack tends to meet but before he can get to far the dark-haired woman from the week before spots him and comes rushing over, "Alpha-second Holmes?" she murmurs questioningly.

He stares at her with narrow eyes trying to determine what she wants.

"I want you to know, alpha-second, as much as I love John, it's not the romantic kind of love, it's more like the love of a good friend. A love of a person who has stood by you for no reason than they could. I love my mate." She informs him with a low voice that is still respectful. "You must be a human child, or your mark would have already appeared. The longest I have ever heard of it taking after the bondmates had accepted their bond is seventeen months, others it appears hours later. "

Snarling low in his throat, he pins her with a look he had seen Eric give to some of the wolves when he wanted instance obedience and is mildly surprised when she drops her head submissively. "I understand you are mated, that John was your lover, but never touch him like that again. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, alpha-second," she murmurs softly.

Nodding, he walks past her with a flare of his coat, knowing that she is watching him as he goes.

When he gets out to where everyone is gathering, he is not surprised to see that John is waiting for him before he calls everyone to attention. That seems to be his normal mode of operations for these types of events. For the most part it is a rather routine meeting. Nothing truly important happens besides everyone updates on how their various tasks and lives are going. John formally welcomes the Hill family into the pack. Introducing them to the top of the pack, the military pack is it is often referred to by the rest of the pack.

Afterwards, when everyone has moved on to the visiting part of the night, he is surprised when the new wolf quietly and respectfully approaches John. Waiting with his head bowed for John to be done speaking. He figures no one had warned him that his new alpha was not one to stand on ceremony.

"Yes Philip?" John inquires at a lull in the conversation.

"Elite Alpha," the man begins but John interrupts him.

"Call me John, please."

He slowly nods once, "John, I have a sister, Kiara, she has a daughter like Paul, I…" his voice trails off. He can tell that the man is trying to bring himself to ask for John to use his gift on this child.

His bondmate nods once, "I understand, you bring her here and I will see what I can do."

The wolf shifts foot to foot for a moment looking nervous before mumbling, "She is waiting just outside the property with Katie."

A look is flickered to the cobra, who nods once, and a dry chuckle escapes his lover. "Well, bring her in."

The wolf proceeds to thank him repeatedly before bowing almost to the ground and taking off towards town on foot.

"Wolf pups," Eric snaps, "are idiots."

He smiles as his wolf starts chuckling deep in his throat. "They can be."

The three of them wait there for less than ten minutes when he returns with a young appearing woman holding a small child in her arms.

She had barely presented the child to his mate when he was sinking to the ground in a cross-legged seated position, the child placed so he was cradled by his legs.

_Watch him. See him as he is. He is not just a wolf, an elder, an elite, an iota. He is a Thera. He deserves all the honor and respect that being a Thera should earn. You wonder why I answer to him when I answer to no one. This is why. _Eric's voice whispers through his mind as he watches his mate heal the child from the inside out. _He is a child of the gods. A gift from them. Fucking wolves do not appreciate what he is. While he has the iota's gift of healing, his goes further. He is a Thera. They are terrified by the very thing that allows them to live. _

_They think that the Thera's are abnormal. Uncontrollable. Yet they are the most controlled of all the healers. He can speak directly to the Old Gods. Any elite can ask a favor of the Old Gods, but only a Thera can speak with them. Only a Thera can stop death when it is the only choice. Only a Thera can create or destroy a shifter. Only a Thera has the ability to remake a person at a cellular level. _His voice continues to hiss through his mind as he watches. The glow had completely enveloped both John and the child.

_I answer to him because he is John. Thera Elite Elder Wolf. I answer to him because he is a gift from the Old Gods, and I am not stupid. I will defend and protect him until the day he dies. I am a black cobra. I understand exactly what type of gift he is. Each and every one of these wolves should be groveling in thanks but they are foolish idiots. They do not. I realize though. See him as he is William Sherlock Scott Holmes, blessed human bondmate to the Thera Elite Elder John Hamish Watson. _

_See the gift he is and understand that he has selected you as his mate. Not someone else because I tell you this now. He could have. The gods would have let him choose his own mate had he desired to. He did not select a different mate. He selected you. _

With that the contact between himself and the cobra was broken. Still he watched as John continued to work on the child. Why was it taking longer than it had the others? Turning his head the slightest, he looks past his mate to the mother as she stands there. His eyes quickly learning everything about her, including the fact that her mate had died of some illness that the iota's and doctors had not been able to cure. Something different than what her family had. Oh. So there was more to it than just what he had originally thought.

Several more minutes passed before the light glow that he could not name a color for finally faded and the small child in his arms. Finally, the child in his arms starts to squirm, before a low wail escapes it and it falls quiet instantly, as if confused.

The look on the mothers face is priceless. It says a great deal, the child had been deaf mute on top of whatever other problems it had.

Smiling, his bondmate offers the child to its parent without standing. The child, a girl, he recalls, wiggles around for a bit in John's grasp until he pulls her close so she can feel his heartbeat at which point she stops moving and relaxes into him.

The mother and uncle both drop to their knees, lowering themselves completely to the ground as they thank him. The mother is pledging her loyalty.

Holding his left arm out, wrist up, John waits to see if she will accept being a member of the pack. She does so almost instantly. Still thanking him profusely. Rolling his eyes, he offers his arm as well, forcing her to stand in order to accept it and completing the pack link. He feels it as the power surges between John and the child as he welcomes the little girl into the pack, nuzzling her cheek with his nose before offering her to him. Concentrating, he accepts the small girl, and welcomes her to the pack as well before passing her back to her mother.

Eric steps up at that point, offering his arm to John with his scales withdrawn. His mate accepts and he watches the power that flows between them before his mate gets to his feet with an easy smile on his face.

"Take care of things?" he murmurs to the other shifters.

"Always elder," the cobra replies.

Nodding, he looks over at him asking, "Ready to go home?"

He smiles at his mate, nodding and the two of them leave. Him once more riding on the back of his beautiful wolf.


	41. Buckingham Palace

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

Sorry it took so long to get this updated, real life and my computer conspired against me,

Thanks goes to my new lovely beta, Vixis, for making sure I didn't do too many silly things, any mistakes still seen are mine.

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_Chapter 41  
__John's POV  
_Upon getting back to their flat, he is mildly amused at the fact Sherlock seems to be in caring mode. Once they are inside, he carefully removes his jacket before sitting him on the sofa and going out in the kitchen to make tea. When he comes back with the tea, it tastes surprisingly alright, if a bit sweeter than he prefers his apple-cinnamon tea to be. While he is drinking the tea, his bondmate is keeping a close eye on him. After he finishes up his tea, he is surprised when his dark-haired lover leads him into the downstairs bedroom, which they had agreed was Sherlock's, before striping him to nothing more than his pants and shoving him gently under the blankets. Within moments he was asleep from the exhaustion that comes from the type of healing he had done.

He woke early in the morning with the long body of his bondmate pressed against his side. Soft breathes escaping him in his sleep as he rests his head on his good shoulder. It was rare for him to wake up with his mate, so he decided to enjoy the feeling, not sure when it was going to happen again.

As he laid there thinking, he considered the fact that the little girl had not been dying of a natural illness. True part of it had been the genetic problems from her mother, but a bigger part of it had not. That second part, the deadly part had been something brought on by outside sources, and not anything that could be done by a shifter or using poisons. He would have to consider it carefully, perhaps ask Eric to look into any unusual deaths, or track down the bodies of those who died in similar cases.

He is just thinking that he needs to move, when his dark-haired lover stretches out against him, bending a lot like a cat. Smiling, he tilts his head just a bit, nuzzling the curls against his shoulder as he murmurs, "Morning Sherlock."

Kissing his shoulder his bondmate replies, "Good morning," before burrowing close to his side. A moment later, the taller man hisses, holding up his right arm and look closely at the underside of the wrist. "John, look," he prompts, excitement in his voice.

Where there had been empty skin before, there was now a spiraling fern design much like the one on his left arm. Lifting his arm, he places it next to his mates to compare marks, when they are done forming they are identical so he gets a good idea of what it is going to look like when done. His is more open fern with little dots surrounding it but he can feel that it still has a little bit left of changing. However, if Sherlock's is finally appearing, that means that the marks will soon be done with their shifting.

Grinning, he presses their wrists together as he shoves his human bondmate on his back and leans over him to kiss him long and passionately. "You were worried it wasn't going to show up," he mumbles slightly amused against his lips before kissing him again.

Sherlock just smiles back at him, through the kissing and within moments there is more than kissing going on as long fingers run up and down his back while he proceeds to nipping and kissing his way down his mates, jaw, throat and chest.

"John," his dark-haired lover whines in need as his tongue flickers out against his left nipple before moving on to the right one. It's not often that he gets a chance to be in control since Sherlock tends to have an active personality, but with their arms firmly clasped together above his mates head, he only has one hand to work with and John is making sure his mate really doesn't even use it.

Slowly, making sure to build his lovers fire, his tongue traces a path down his slender form, gently dipping into his belly-button before continuing downwards to the edge of his sleeping pants. Smirking, he uses his nose and teeth to carefully pull them down, though he does not remove them all the way, choosing instead to trap his mate's legs in his night clothes. As his tongue flickers out to lick the tip of his mates cock, Sherlock's his jerk upwards but he uses his free arm to hold them in place.

"John!" his human moans, his tone demanding.

"Yes Sherlock?" he queries right before running the flat of his tongue down his length and causing his partner to groan low in his throat.

There is no response from his human as he carefully nuzzles, licks, nips, and kisses his shaft before moving to do the same to his balls. When he is dripping precum he shifts to slowly sucking on it, shifting his arm, so his free hand can slowly palm him as he does so. Within minutes the tall man is whimper and writhing as much as he can with his legs trapped within his sleeping pants and one of his arms held above his head.

"John!" he just about shouts as he comes, his seed hitting the back of his throat in a rush that he quickly swallows.

With a smile, he gives his mate one last lick before kissing his way back up his body to his mouth and kissing him deeply for a few moments before releasing his arm and stretching back out beside him.

Not to be outdone, the tall human shifts to sitting up as he reaches over and strokes down his body, fingers kneading his chest and stomach muscles as he goes until he gets to the top of his pants where he hooks his long thumbs and tugs them down, only he totally pulls them off instead. Smiling mischievously, he proceeds to kiss each and every inch of him that the human can reach, everywhere except his aching member which is curling towards his chest.

A dry chuckle escapes his lips even as he proceeds to moan because of how good it feels.

He nearly expects Sherlock to give him a blow job, but is surprised when the tall human reaches across to the night stand and grabs a small jar of lube off of it. With a focused look, he carefully coats him with it before using his own fingers to prepare himself. It is the first time in the several weeks they had been doing this that his human had decided to do something quite like this. He can do nothing as stare transfixed at the sight before him.

The gasp that escapes him is low as his mate slowly sinks himself onto his cock, carefully taking all of him in until he has bottomed out. Groaning, arches his hips against the taller man, bumping against his prostate as he does so. His shorter fingers come up to hold his mates hips as his mate braces himself against his upper arms as he slowly moves.

"Sher-lock," he gasps out as he feels the pressure building.

His lover smiles at him, rolling his hips a bit as he responds, "Yes, John?" nearly hissing the 's' sound.

Growling softly, he flips his mate over, somehow managing not to lose their connection before he takes to carefully snapping his hips after pulling nearly all the way out. Between their bodies he can feel his mate getting hard again, and maneuvers a hand between them to stroke him as he continues to take him. Once he can smell that his lover is just about there, he changes positioning to hit his prostrate every time he thrusts and both of them end up coming within seconds of each other.

Breathing heavily, he uses his arms to support his weight so he does not collapse on top of his mate. "Shower?" he suggests, leaning down to kiss him one more time.

Eyes hooded, his mate nods, and he slowly withdraws from his body, watching with a satisfied smirk as the tall man gets to his feet with semen running down his legs.

Quickly the two of them make it into the shower, where they take turns cleaning each other up though nothing more happens between them. After the shower, Sherlock has retreated to his room to dress while he has gone to his to do the same.

He notices when Mrs. Hudson arrives, almost chuckling at her exclamation of, "Ooh dear! Thumbs!" as she looks in the fridge.

A few minutes later, he hears unfamiliar footsteps and smells a strange human within his flat.

Before he is all the way down the stairs he hears the stranger murmur, "The door was," he begins but pauses as if trying to catch his breath, "the door was," he trails off as a loud thump is heard. Apparently the strange human had fainted.

He is just coming off of the steps when he hears Mrs. Hudson yell out, "Boys! You've got another one!"

Stepping off of the last step, he can see her leaning over the other human, according to the scent in the air the stranger has merely fainted from shock. Rolling his eyes a bit, he checks him over with quick, medical precision before telling her as much. He is considering moving the heavy man but decides not to because he can smell him waking up.

With a shake of his head, he makes tea for everyone while the stranger sits up on the floor, groaning softly. Moments later, his mate comes out of his room dressed in nothing but a sheet because he had been debating about what he wanted to wear when the client had arrived.

After a brief discussion about what had happened, and the man telling his entire side of the story, the tall human looks at him and smiles, saying, "Can you take the laptop to the crime scene and use the wifi? I am not sure what I want to wear yet."

He shakes his head chuckling but does so, when he arrives at the crime scene, several hours later, he speaks with a young man where a rather bright yellow vest before an older human comes walking over to the car he is in.

As he gets out the human extends his hand inquiring, "Sherlock Holmes?"

With a small smile, he shakes the other man's hand answering, "John Watson, are you set up for wifi?"

Over the next few minutes the two of them speak using the Skype on the laptop, though he determines he needs to have Eric get him a bug for the house so he can hear whatever it is that his dark-haired bondmate thinks that they discuss when he is not there. He is startled when the link is suddenly cut and the same young man that greeted him tells him that the helicopter that just arrived was for him. Slightly startled, he heads over to it, but makes sure that he has his laptop as he does so.

It seems to be a quick ride from the crime scene back to London. The pilot of the helicopter is a human, so he reaches with his mind out to the various members of the pack he knows are playing guard, to Trace, his guard he comments, _Do not worry about rushing back, take your time. I have a feeling where I am going you would not be the best for sneaking in. _Then to Elspeth that he knows is with his mate, _Is he at the palace?_

_**He is, and without a stitch of clothing on either. It was rather amusing watching the humans that came into your flat, and they were all human, not a shifter or gifted one in the mix, collect up an outfit for him and try to convince him to get dressed. He did that thing that he does and smirked at them as if to say like you wish. **_She replies, her tone full of laughter. _**Now we are sitting within Buckingham Palace and I still have not seen or smelled one non-human in the mix. Perhaps they are shielding, but for some reason I highly doubt it. It's a good thing our kind stays out of human affairs normally because this place would be simple to attack. **_

He gives an internal shake of his head before changing paths and reaching for Eric, _If you do not already have a microphone in the house, can you get some set up so I can hear what my bondmate is saying to me when I am not there. Because he seems to forget that I am not there at times and keeps talking. _

_Of course, _comes the soft reply, _I do not currently have anything set up, but I can before you both get home. Do you want me to hook it to the private files of your computer or your phone?_

_Computer. _He answers, _he uses that less and has not yet figured out how to open it as far as I know. _

_Alright. It will be done shortly. Enjoy your trip to the palace, tell the cat that most the non-humans in the palace are immortals, they smell like humans unless you know what you are sniffing for. _

_Will do, thank you,_ he tells the cobra as the pilot lands and he is shown into an enormous, overly decorative hall with a pair of sofas sitting across from each other with a small circular table between the two of them. On the table is the pile of Sherlock's clothes, while his mare is sitting wrapped in his sheet with his back to the massive white fire place that has a mirror above it.

Walking over slowly, he studies his mate for a moment before slowly sitting down beside him and questioning, "Are you wearing any pants?" even though he already knows the answer is no.

Looking around the room, he tries for serious, or even just figuring out Elspeth's hiding place while his mate softly replies, "No," staring straight ahead at the other wall.

Slowly, the two glance at each other and bust out chuckling at the ridiculousness of it all. Knowing that there is probably at least one or two watchers observing him he states, "Buckingham Palace," as he looks up at the ceiling and settles his hands on his knees. Clearing his throat he remarks, "Oh, I'm seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray."

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the grin that has dominated his mates features and considers kissing him as the tall human chuckles but decides not to because they had agreed to keep that part of their relationship at home where no one else can observe it. Smiling, he gives a small shake of his head, clearing his throat one more time as he queries, "What are we doing here, Sherlock? Seriously, what?"

His sense of smell picks up on Mycroft even before the human comes around the corner, "I don't know," the human answers, still smiling.

"Here to see the Queen?" he questions, listening to the approaching footsteps.

His mate glances over as he sees his brother come through the archway and flippantly answers, "Oh, apparently yes." He cannot help but to start chuckling again, which gets his mate going.

His mate's serious brother smells of annoyance even as he tries to keep his features impassive. Tilting his head the slightest, the tall auburn-haired human inquires exasperatedly, "Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups?"

Looking straight ahead for a moment, he sniffs the air, there is another person approaching, still human though, "We solve crimes, I blog about it and he forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope." He turns to look up at the other human as he finishes speaking.

Becoming serious, his dark-haired human just about snaps, "I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft."

Tucking his hands into his suit pockets, the still standing human responds, "What, the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious, surely?"

Sounding sure of himself, he replies, "Transparent."

Leaning over, his bondmate's brother, lifts up his clothing as he comments, "Time to move on, then." Offering the dark-haired human his clothes, he sighs when he just gets stared at, stating, "We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation." Pausing for a moment, his voice goes stern, "Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on."

"What for?" he inquires sarcastically with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Your client."

He watches as his bondmate stands and stares at his brother, demanding, "And my client is?"

The human he could smell approaching, remarks, "Illustrious in the extreme. And remaining – I have to inform you – entirely anonymous."

He gets to his feet politely, because it is expected. Another discrete sniff of the air tells him that this is a full human who often works near or with Layard, who he can smell on him. That means he works with or for the Queen. Great, the human queen is their client. As the stranger is speaking, Mycroft sets his bondmates clothing down on the opposite table before turning to look at him.

"Mycroft," the stranger comments, reaching forward to shake his hand.

"Harry," he replies in greeting. "May I apologize for the state of my little brother?" as he finishes speaking, he turns so both government men are standing side by side.

The stranger looks at him with a condescending smile as he replies, "Full-time occupation, I imagine." Then the stranger turns towards him, remarking, "And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

Shaking the strangers hand, he greets him with, "Hello, yes."

Standing perfectly straight, the stranger comments, "My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog."

He schools his features into looking partially startled, he repeats, "Your employer?"

The stranger looks him straight in the face as he comments, "Particularly enjoyed the one about the aluminum crutch."

"Thank you," he responds before giving his bondmate an I-told-you-so look.

Stepping around the table, the stranger comments, "And Mr Holmes the younger. You look taller in your photographs."

Sarcasm just about drips from his dark-haired human's voice as he answers, "I take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend." With a quick glance in his way, his human steps pasted him, and he adjusts, stepping back, as he comments, "Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends is too much work."

Glancing over to the stranger, his mate remarks, "Good morning," before walking on past him towards the area they had come through.

He had not even gotten three steps when his brother had stepped down on the sheet wrapped around him, forcing him to grab for it quickly as it falls off, his wrist just barely showing the vibrant fern design on it that seems to have settled.

"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up." the auburn-haired brother snaps.

Holding the sheet, his dark-haired bondmate growls through clenched teeth, "Get off my sheet." As he holds it in place.

The scents pouring off of the three humans are amusement from the stranger, frustration from Mycroft, and anger from Sherlock. Staring straight ahead he tries not to laugh at the trio.

"Or what?" Mycroft demands he turns more towards his brother.

"I'll just walk away," his mate snaps, but he can smell how uncomfortable he is with that even if he does not wish to say so.

Switching to a sugary sweet tone, the older brother answers, "I'll let you."

Deciding that this probably should not be allowed to go any further, he steps up to Mycroft commenting, "Boys please, not here," he tries for a calming tone, considering using the alpha's voice but deciding against it.

Snarling, his bondmate slowly demands, "Who. Is. My. Client?"

The auburn-haired human locks gazes with him as he answers, "Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake," pausing, he looks around before snapping quietly, "put your clothes on!"

Sitting back down, he watches as his mate turns around and comes to fetch them, dressing with indelicacy right there before taking a seat next to him. On the other sofa, the two government officials sit down and a few moments later a young woman comes in with a tea set.

Once the set tea is arranged, the young woman vanishes again, while Mycroft comments, "I'll be mother," as he pours the tea.

Moodily, he bondmate comments, "And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell."

Over the next few minutes the four of them go back and forth for a few moments about the job that is needed. Once they are pasted the small talk, they shift to speaking of the actual situation, including Irene Adler. Handing over the image of the person in question, they continue to speak for a few moments more. Until he inquires about her professional name and Mycroft answers.

"There are many names for what she does. She prefers 'dominatrix'."

Staring at the photo, he can just about hear his bondmates thoughts without reaching for them, "Dominatrix," he repeats thoughtfully.

"Don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex." Mycroft remarks as if speaking to a small child.

Jerking his head up his dark-haired human remarks, "Sex doesn't alarm me."

His auburn-haired brother smiles at him snidely, questioning, "How would you know?"

_We could show him if you would like, _he offers to his mate who he can feel getting annoyed.

_No, it's not his business._ His human bondmate responds softly.

While they were having a quick discussion, Mycroft had continued to speak, and both of them answered at the right moments even if they were more in their heads than they probably should be. Passing several more pictures to him, Mycroft comments that the images are all from her website. Once his bondmate is done glancing through the images, the conversation resumes, though after the remark about it being a young female person, he dark-haired lover makes a comment to him alone.

_Please, as if I could not figure out whom he is talking about._

His hand freezes with the tea cup in it part way between his face and saucer as the other three continue to speak. He doesn't even pay attention to it until his bondmate comments on it. A few minutes later the two of them are leaving and riding in the cab heading home. Their driver this time is a mouse with a friendly smile.

As they drive away he asks, "Okay, the smoking, how'd you know?"

A brief smile, curls his lovers lips as he replies, "The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever, you see but do not observe," with a shake of his head.

Tilting his head sideways he inquires, "Observe what?"

Smiling, he reaches into his coat to pull out a crystal ashtray, "The ashtray," he responds and the two of them start laughing again. The rest of the ride goes smoothly, neither saying a word as each are lost in their own thoughts.


	42. Intimidation and Dinner

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

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_Chapter 42  
__Mycroft's POV  
_How in the hell had his brother managed to pull off not dressing for so long? Where had the tattoo on his right wrist come from? Why was it so hard to get a person who could successful keep an eye on his brother? He knew what Anthea had mentioned about the shifters but surely that could not be it.

He had sent one of his more trusted installers to place cameras in his brothers flat, but he had come back babbling something about each of the camera's breaking as he installed them. That his entire computer system had related to observing Sherlock, John Watson, and Greg Lestrade had crashed. Everything else worked fine, just the things watching them seemed to go offline and there had been nothing anyone in the department could do about the situation. Even tracking their phones had suddenly become a problem.

Then there had been the various watchers he had assigned his brother, the security detail that had difficulties keeping up with him before he had met up with the shifter he lived with. Now they seemed to never be able to keep up with him. Men who were at the top of their abilities and yet they seemed to keep running into unusual accidents. They were not deadly accidents, most the time, they didn't even injure his agents, instead they were embarrassing and during the time that the agents were recovering from said accidents his brother would vanish into thin air. There were other times that the different men and agents he had assigned had reported one moment he would be in plain sight and the next he would be gone, nowhere to be seen.

It was aggravating.

Perhaps he needed to call Aragorn to see if he could find him using his computer skills. His youngest brother had excelled in the computer arts the same way Sherlock and him had excelled in understanding a person's every facet through a single look.

He is still debating that idea as he goes from his car to the Diogenes Club with Anthea almost beside him typing away at her phone. The trip through the silent building to his office does nothing to help him make up his mind. When they get into the office, his PA begins to go over the meetings that he still has left for the day when she suddenly stops speaking, her head jerking up to look around the room.

_Very good,_ he hears a soft voice hiss, _you lack true gift but you still have instincts that warn you when there is a predator in the area. _

A moment later a slender, tall teenager with spiky black hair and something on his neck and jaw appears circling his PA who seems to be frozen in place. Her eyes are wide as she stares straight ahead, as if trying not to look at the person stalking slowly around her far closer than is polite.

"You realize I can taste your terror?" he queries, his voice a low hiss as he stops nearly directly behind her, tilting his head just a bit so his mouth is near her ear. "Though I must say, daughter of the Jade line, you currently have nothing to fear from me. Scurry along. I desire a word with your human." A cold smile curls his lips as he states, "And don't bother with security, they won't respond currently, anyone who comes through to that door until I am done will simply forget, just like you will until I leave."

Her eyes flicker towards him, questioning. He knows she will stay despite her apparent fear but he inclines his head to give her permission to leave. As soon as the slender man steps back out of her personal space she calmly turns towards the door, keeping him in line of sight as she leaves.

"Smart assistant. Knows better than to attempt to toy with someone who could destroy her without ever laying a finger on her." the teenager murmurs, his voice still hissing slightly.

He recognizes the threat that seems to pour of the younger looking man. Something however tells him he is not as young as he looks. With a practiced eye, he scans over the newcomer trying to read him. It is rather frustrating that he cannot.

"Please, keep trying, I wish to see how long it takes before your scent is completely consumed by the nervousness and fear that your instincts are screaming about." The slender man comments as he moves closer to him.

Taking it as a challenge, he watches him closely, noticing only little things. Military, older than he appears, well versed at using his body as a weapon, wearing some sort of finger protectors.

"Actually, that's my natural skin I will have you know, just like the scales on my neck and jaw are all natural as well." The mocking smile makes him forget to breathe for a moment as he catches the stranger's odd black eyes. "It's not exactly fair of me," he murmurs as he steps beside him, "I can taste your fear, you adrenaline, your determination. I can hear your thoughts and feelings, oh yes I am well aware of those feelings that you try so hard to suppress."

"If you know so much, why are you here?" he inquires in his most diplomatic tone, he refuses to be cowed by this man who looks so young even if all he wants to do is curl under his desk to get away from him.

Slowly the taller man, for he is at least a head taller than him, circles him closely, the coolness of his body noticeable where most give off heat. He wants to shiver but refuses to.

_Interesting. Most humans, hell most of any race, instinctively attempt to step away when I am in their comfort area. The fact that you hold still without trembling says a lot for you Mycroft. _The low voice hisses in his mind, making him flinch at the intimacy of it. _I am here as a polite warning. Do not continue to attempt to use devices or agents to watch Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, or Gregory Lestrade. They belong to my den. As such they are under my watch and I do not allow outsiders to interfere as that short Irish human has discovered in the most annoyed way. If you want the footage, get permission from the den elder. _As he speaks, he circles even closer they are almost touching, pausing just out if his eyesight to the left of him.

He feels more than sees when the tall man leans towards him just the slightest, his equally cool breath brushing his ear as he demands, "Understand?"

Tensely he nods once, trying to determine what would happen had he not agreed and determining he really does not want to know.

Deliberately, the tall man shifts positioning so he is directly behind him. It takes ever ounce of will power to remain still rather than step forward away from the danger that he can feel with every inch of his body. "If you had not agreed," that soft voice hisses into his other ear, sending chills down his spine, "I would have made you forgot you ever had a brother named Sherlock, then I would have proceeded to wipe him from every single moment of your life."

A moment later that cool body vanishes from his immediate field but he does not relax, somehow knowing that they are not quite done. When the slender man suddenly reappears in front of him with narrow black eyes watching him closely, he is happy that he had chosen to agree. He would have to consider some other way to find out what was going on with his brother, because the last time he had stopped tracking him, he had turned to drugs and he did not want a repeat experience of that, but at the same time, he really liked his mind the way it was and something told him that this man's threats were not in vain.

"I shall repeat the suggestion given to you by the jackal-child, speak with the den elder." A cruel smile curves tall man's lips and it takes everything in him not to step back, though he could barely contain his flinch. "Considère ce que j'ai dit. Plus tard."

Before he has a chance to react the tall man is gone, silent as a whisper. The air itself seems to warm and without thinking about it, he finds himself leaning heavily on his desk, his mind carefully going over every single instance that the dangerous stranger had been within his office. That had been a very calm warning to him, on several different levels, the most important one being your staff cannot protect you if I decide that something needs to be done about you. The second most important of that lesson being remain calm no matter what and your chances of survival may increase.

He is still leaning against his desk, lost in thought when his PA reenters the room, her eyes troubled. "Are you alright, sir?" she inquires.

Giving a small shake of his head, he looks up at her, slightly shocked to see that she appears to be partially flustered. "Of course, that was just a friendly meeting."

Delicately shivering, she mutters, "If that was friendly, I would really hate to see unfriendly."

A smile curves his lips despite the tension still rolling through him. "Do you know who that was exactly?"

"The scales on his fingers, throat, and face proclaim he is the black cobra called Tech. According to the gifted community, he is a living nightmare. Most of the gifted I have spoken with suggest avoiding him and anything that draws his attention as a way to have a longer life span." Again she shivers, "after meeting him, I have to agree."

"Arrange for a meeting with Detective Inspector Lestrade, in a public place, somewhere that should not be taken as a threat." He directs as he walks around to the other side of his desk to open his laptop and send an encrypted message to his youngest brother, requesting a meeting with him as soon as he had a convenient moment.

She nods and is gone, his next appointment coming in moments later. Thankfully he had already gotten himself back together because it would not do for his appointment, a minor official like himself from South Korea, to see him so shaken.

oOo

Shortly after five thirty pm Anthea steps back into the office looking the calmest she had since their visit earlier. "I have scheduled a dinner for yourself and the detective inspector at the café he seems to favor near his flat. I have also made sure that he would be available for your discussion."

"Thank you, Anthea," he murmurs as he shuts down his laptop after checking to see if there is a response from his youngest brother.

Silently the two of them make their way through the club to his waiting black car. Nothing is said as they ride to the NSY building. Once there she shifts to sitting in the front with his driver Anthony. After roughly ten minutes of waiting, the door slides open and the silver-haired detective inspector slips in with a sigh.

"Hello, is it Mr. Holmes or Mycroft today?" the slightly older man inquires as he glances at him curiously.

Part of him bristles at the idea that they were back to formal names, but he realizes that it is his way of asking what this was about since it was not the right week for a Sherlock discussion. "Hello Gregory," he just about purrs in answer, he had noticed in the past the type of effect his voice had on the older man and hoped to use it to his advantage but he really does not want to overdo it.

Nodding once, the silver-haired DI smiles at him as he relaxes into the seat.

The ride to the café is quick, and within a few minutes they are seated at a comfortable booth. He is certain that Anthea had already had the place swept for any potential threats and probably had a security team nearby.

Chuckling, the detective inspector remarks, "Slightly surprising, this is a first Mycroft."

He merely nods once, looking over the menu and trying to decide what to eat. While he does not always eat high end food, he is unfamiliar with the cook of this establishment and thus does not know what he is good at.

"Mind if I order for both of us since I am guessing you are out of your depth?" his companion inquires not even bothering to look at the menu.

Blinking once, he nods, "Of course, that is an excellent suggestion." After the day he has had, he really does not want to have to figure out what he might like from the menu.

When the waitress comes over, she discretely flirts with both of them, smiling as she takes the order from Gregory, including two of those hot chocolates they make for the madman. She grins as she agrees and is gone faster than he would have guessed.

"So, I am guessing you want to talk about the pack some more."

He nods slowly, waiting until she has returned with their drinks before speaking, "I had the distinct pleasure of seeing Tech today," he comments, sipping at his hot chocolate. He is very surprised to taste it is the hot chocolate mixture that Sherlock tends to favor. "Delicious," he murmurs.

Smiling, Gregory nods once, "They make a wide variety of flavors, that one they call the madman after your brother who first asked them to make it in that imperious tone of his."

"Really? Perhaps they can make my blend then." He takes another sip.

Once their food is there, his companion asks, "You said Tech paid you a visit? You are referring to Eric the tall, scary despite his youthful looking, black scaled man?"

He nods once, so the black cobra shifters name was Eric. Interesting. He is sure that he will not be able to find anything out on him, but it is still useful to know. Even a member of his den, or was it a pack, was afraid of him. "Forgive me, I am not sure if I should call the group of shifters that you are part of pack or den, I have heard both words."

A sardonic smile curls the older man's lips, "Your fishing, it's alright though, it's a pack according to the majority of the members. However it has several different types of shifters, so other words are used by other breeds. Eric tends to call it a den, he is a snake after all, Mouse tends to call it a nest, I tend to call it a pack. It all depends on the person."

He nods, eating a few surprisingly tasty bites before asking, "He stated that he could erase my memories of ever having a brother, was he correct?"

"He could do a lot worse than that if he decided to," his companion pauses to take a bite of his dinner before continuing, "He can do a lot of damage I have discovered. Most of the pack knows better than to anger him, and not just because he is a cobra either, but because John is the only one who can stop him when he has his temper up." the older man shrugs, taking another bite of food, "It was part of the welcoming I was given to the pack, a warning about why not to piss off the tallest pack member."

"Oh," he murmurs thoughtfully as he considers again the conversation he had had with the black cobra. If one wanted to call it a conversation. What it really was, is a finely planned out intimidation tactic that seemed to work. How frustrating, he was rarely ever intimidated. After all being scared was not an advantage in his job position.

"Whatever he told you, I would suggest taking to heart. From what I understand he does not speak just to hear himself do so."

He nods, finishing his plate and pushing it away. The main course had tasted better than expected. Perhaps he could get a dessert, it had been a crazy day and he surely deserved one. For a few minutes the two of them discuss other things, he is surprised at how easy it is to speak with the older man. Their discussion touching from one easy topic to the next but never prying any further into a subject when he changes topics. Once Gregory is done with his meal, he is surprised when the waitress brings out two small plates with rich dark chocolate cake on it

With the first bite he cannot help the low moan that escapes him at the taste and he finds himself being stared at with an unusual look from the detective inspector. Slightly embarrassed, he starts to apologize though he is not sure what for when his companion waves it off. After dinner he has his driver take them to Gregory's flat, where he bids him good night before heading home himself.

There is a great deal for him to consider, he thinks. Hopefully Aragorn will get in touch with him sooner than later, because his skills are highly needed right now. Yet at the same time, he wonders what it would take to get into the pack that Gregory and his brother both belong to. He also wonders if there is any way he could get that cobra to work for him, with his scare factor information gathering from those who need torturing would become simple.

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_AN:_ the phrase that Eric says farewell with is "Consider what I have said. Until later." In French, which I do not speak, so it is a translation from Google.


	43. Irene

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 43  
__John's POV  
_When they get back to the flat, his tall bondmate is pacing, the scent of frustration in the air. Through their link he can feel that the human is trying to decide what to do about this situation. After pausing for a moment to give him a long kiss, his bondmate vanishes into his bedroom, leaving the door open as he starts going through things, throwing article after article of clothing into the short hallway and at one point stepping out of his room with a bright yellow over jacket on.

"What are you doing?" he inquires, looking up from his reading. He is trying to give his lover space to determine what he needs but the soldier part of him wonders why not just send in Mouse to collect information.

His bondmate steps into the hall and looks at him, stating, "Going into battle, John, I need the right armor."

He shakes his head, looking back at his book and giving a small frown. Sometimes he worries about his mate.

Several more minutes pass as he sorts through everything. He is surprised however, when his normally hard to get to clean up after himself mate actually takes the time to put his clothing back before stating, "I think I am ready, call a cab."

Shaking his head, he calls for a cab, requesting one of the crows that he had previously had as the driver. A few minutes after that the two of them are in the cab and discussing the plan of action in how to approach Ms. Adler. He is mildly startled when his bondmate has the cabbie pull off and let them out. Walking down a small side street he looks around questioning.

"Are we here?" he queries, certain the answer is no, and wondering why his bondmate has removed his scarf.

Looking down his bondmate looks tense for a moment before he answers, "Two streets away but this will do."

Curious he inquires, "For what?"

Gesturing to his face he answers, "Punch me in the face."

"Punch you?" he repeats, not sure he heard his bondmate correctly. Did he seriously just invite him to slug him in the jaw?

Shaking his head, his mate responds, "Yes, punch me in the face," he motions to his jaw again, a confused look on his face, "Didn't you hear me?"

Disbelief colors his voice as he sarcastically responds, "It's not abnormal for me to hear punch you in the face when you speak, however it is usually sub-text."

Looking away, his bondmate mutters, "Oh for God's sakes," before throwing a punch and catching him in the jaw.

Picking himself up off the ground he quickly swings his right hand, slugging his mate in the jaw and sending him reeling, a quick glance at his hand and he sends another good punch, this time to his mates stomach. His healers instincts are screaming at him not to harm his mate, but his soldiers instincts are telling him to beat the shit out of him. Shockingly enough, his wolf is being silent, allowing everything to unfold.

As he partially strangles his mate he hears the tall man he has in his grasp gasp, "Okay! I think we're done now, John."

Snarling into his bondmate's ear he states, "You wanna remember, Sherlock: I was a soldier. I killed people. You've seen me do so."

His bondmate says nothing in response, instead is trying to get one of his long fingered hands around his wrist to break the grip. Finally, when he feels the taller man just about ready to faint, he releases his hold. A small piece of his gift surging throughout his bondmate in order to repair the internal injuries, even though he leaves the external damage visible. Once the healing is done, the two of them walk over the two streets to the house where Ms. Adler awaits.

We really need to teach that boy some proper fighting. He hears the cobra murmur in his head and knows that he is watching through one of the cameras.

He gets amusement out of the situation both the sarcasm in his head and the fact his bondmate is wearing a vicar's collar and is acting like he is panicking because of a mugging. He can smell the amusement from the other side of the door and decides not to tell his bondmate that he is pretty sure that they are expecting him. Instead, he slips in behind his bondmate, inquiring after a first aid kit. His senses are on high alert as he goes with her to the kitchen after she shows his lover to a sitting room.

Amusement pours into him from his link with Spathi, while shock is the feeling he gets from Sherlock.

_**By Blessed Ayanuh! This woman is amusing. She just came strutting into the room naked as the day she was birthed except the cosmetics on her face. It sent your bondmate into shock, I don't think he knows what to do.**_ The multi-form cat tells him, showing him the image. It takes everything in his head not to laugh at the scene before him. _**She has both shifter and gifted blood, but is human, that's just amusing.**_

Walking back into the room with a warm bowl of water and a towel, he does not have to fake his surprise when he sees the human standing so close to his mate in a suggestive way. It is a good thing his self control is well tested, otherwise the situation would have gotten bloody quickly.

Thank you for the warning, it was needed, he tells the cat as he watches the by play and interrupts accordingly. Sometimes he really wishes his bondmate would have just allowed them to go public, even if he understand why not. Still, this is very frustrating to him.

He watches as his bondmate tries to figure her out and hears the side notes of frustration as he turns his attention on him.

John, this is frustrating, I cannot get a read on her, he grumbles, mentally, the first time he had intentionally activated the link between them before he turns back to looking at her.

Your frustrated, try being a wolf watching a stranger eyeball your mate like he is the most tasty thing around? He responds.

"D'you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr Holmes?" the human woman asks as she stares at back at him.

He raises and eyebrow questioningly.

_Yeah, I don't get to break your neck for ogling my mate._ John answers in their heads.

"However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait." She states.

Reaching up to unfasten the top buttons of his shirt he replies, "You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?"

Still holding the pose she had settled herself into she returns, "No, I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself." Leaning forward she continues, "Oh, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too." She glances over at him, a curiously knowing look on her face.

Giving a dry chuckle, he questions, "Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all." Before I really do lose my temper and break in for flirting with my mate, he thinks glancing down, "A napkin."

"Why?" she queries, smiling sardonically, "Are you feeling exposed?"

His bondmate responds, "I don't think John knows where to look." as he stands up and looks away, holding his coat to the side as she stands and walks over to stand in front of him.

_Really? Considering how jealous you got of Melisa I am startled you think that._ He comments silently.

_Well I have not seen any mental images of you with this woman and I would prefer I never did. _His bondmate snaps in response. _I am surprised I have not gotten anything from her, but then, I have not touched her skin either. _

"I think he knows exactly where," she states as she reaches over and takes the offered coat, "I 'm not sure about you."

He mentally nods, acknowledging what his mate had said. Before smiling like the predator he is and stepping forward the slightest, surprising her by entering her immediate space as she pulls his mates coat on. Her eyes widen the slightest as she steps back, but they do not give her time to process as his mate is already speaking again.

As his tall mate steps across the room to by the fireplace he states, "If I wanted to look at naked women I'd borrow John's laptop." _Which I will not be doing because naked women are boring, I prefer you naked, preferably stretched out on our bed and letting me explore you, _his bondmate comments.

"You do borrow my laptop." He mutters, not bothering to specify why.

Smirking slightly his mate states, "I confiscate it." as he tucks his vicar collar into his slacks pocket.

Once she has the coat pulled on and her eyes flicker back to John questioningly, before looking away and stating, "Well, never mind. We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me – I need to know."

Striding over to the loveseat, she sits down and begins to remove her shoes.

Confused, Sherlock questions, "What?"

"The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?" she inquires staring at his mate.

Both them look at each other in confusion, his lover giving a small shake of his head as he states softly, "That's not why I'm here."

She quickly responds, "No, no, no, you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway…" her voice trails off as she continues to watch him.

Stepping forward a bit, he looks at her questioningly as he remarks, "That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" Then to Elspeth, _be ready to grab the phone whenever it is revealed. I think there is more here than I expected. _

_**Of course, though I must say, I wonder what she would do when confront with you the flirt or Eric in charming mode.**_ She replies softly, he can feel her moving at the edge of his awareness.

She turns to look at him, replying, "I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes."

"Oh," he murmurs, sitting down beside her, "And you like policemen?"

She leans forward, smiling slightly, "I like detective stories – and detectives. Brainy's the new sexy." Her gaze flickers to his mate.

Growling in their link, he is still contemplating snapping her neck when his bondmate starts to babble almost incoherently, "Positionofthecar…" he pauses for a breath, pacing a bit, before repeating the answer, "Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know."

Both him and the human female turn to look at him as his mate speaks. Desire and interest roll in waves off of her, while his mate seems nervous and excited but not a bit attracted.

Curious she asks, "Okay, tell me: how was he murdered?"

His mate pauses for a moment to look at her replying, "He wasn't."

She sounds mildly startled as she tilts her head forward and questions, "You don't think it was murder?"

Resuming his pacing, his mate responds, "I know it wasn't."

"How?"

"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room." He answers, still looking around the room. _Is one of the other pack members here? _He hears his bondmate query.

_Of course, _he replies not answering which one or why.

"Okay, but how?" she asks, not noticing that she inadvertently gave part of the location of the photographs away.

_Have them grab the phone when it becomes available. S_topping again he turns to face her with a slight smile on his face, "So they are in this room. Thank you. John, man the door. Let no-one in."

Mentally sighing, he sends the message off to Elspeth, knowing that she would be able to do so easily. Glancing down for a moment, he flickers his eyes questioningly and is answered by his mate in the same manner. Frowning slightly, he gets to his feet, setting the bowel of water down as he does as his mate asks of him, closing the door behind him as he does so. He really does not like it but understands it was part of the plan. In the hall, he pulls the lighter from the palace out of his pocket and grabs a magazine off of the table to light it on fire and cause the smoke alarm to go off.

Inside the room he knows what's going on because Elspeth is showing him, she thinks that his bondmates treatment of the human is amusing. Particularly when he tells her to stop being boring and think. She finally comes up with the answer just before he is able to get the magazine to light fire and set off the alarm.

From elsewhere in the building, the scent of new humans enters the picture, along with the smell of a gun. When he hears his mate say turn of the fire alarm he is trying to figure out how when three humans come down stairs, each holding a different gun, one of them shoots it silent.

Pretending to be a regular person, he holds his hands up by his head and states, "Thank you," much to the confusion of the three men.

_I am coming back in with three men armed with guns, one has a gun pointed at me,_ he warns his bondmate.

As the four of them enter the room he murmurs, "Sorry Sherlock," _they are all human, they are all angry, and they want something she has._

"Hands behind your head," the man with a silencer snaps towards his mate, before turning his head to look at the human female, "On the floor. Keep it still." the man who is not currently aiming his gun at anyone points it at her and directs her over to next to him. "Ms. Adler, on the floor."

Slightly sarcastically he queries, "Don't you want me on the floor too?"

Harshly, the man with the silencer answers, "No, sir, I want you to open the safe."

A brief smile crosses his lovers face as he states, "American. Interesting. Why would you care?" The tall quickly glances at the female who has tucked her hands slowly behind her head.

In what is supposed to be a commanding tone the man with the silencer orders, "Sir, the safe, now, please."

Simply speaking his bondmate comments, "I don't know the code."

He knows even if he does, he is playing stupid on purpose.

Angrily the man with the silencer remarks, "We've been listening. She said she told you."

Retorting in standard style he responds, "Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she didn't."

Still pointing the silencer at his mate, the man snaps, "I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't, Mr Holmes."

Growing tired of all the bantering he comments, "For God's sake. She's the one who knows the code. Ask her." _Plan? _

_Let him get shot by the gun I am sure is guarding the safe, can you deal with the other two? _His bondmate responds.

A slightly feral smile curls his lips, its probably a good thing that his head is currently ducked down or the humans might have caught on.

"Yes, sir. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman." The silencer man replies.

Startled, the human female starts to speak, "Mr Holmes doesn't…" her voice trails off as the man with the silencer snaps at her.

"Shut up. One more word out of you – just one – and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship."

When the man orders the other man to shoot him on the count of three his mate also starts a count, though of a different type. At the last second he call out for the man not to shoot, just as he slowly turns and opens the lock. As soon as it clicks, he glances towards the two of them, tilting his head. Moments later he calls out "Vatican cameos," and ducks as he swings the safe open. The pistol he had suspected was there goes off as he spins and kicks out his foot, knocking the human female's attacker away just as she hits him in the stomach with her elbow. His mate has already dealt with the third one in the bunch.

_**Got it**__, _Elspeth tells him, _**I dropped my phone in his pocket since she is going to want a phone. I implanted the suggestion that my phone is hers, I have already had tech wipe it clean. The phone says I Am has four lines for the code Locked. I really hope she was not as simple as she smelled, because that means it's I am Sherlocked. **_

_Good. Take it to_ _Eric_. He replies, and there is a mad dash as his mate steps outside, firing off his confiscated gun five times before going back it. He relays the message to Sherlock, before going to check how they got in. When they get upstairs he hears his mate hit the ground and it takes all of his will power not to rush after her in retaliation. Once she is gone out of the window, he sinks to his knees beside his mate, sinking into his gift before running his fingers down his throat. Finding the foreign substance that she had inserted into him, he burns it out in moments, which causes his bondmate to pass out from the stress of all of it.

Moments later the medics come in and rush to check him, when he assures them he will be fine, he just needs to go to home, they are at first leery of listening, but do so after one of them thoroughly checks him.

"He's right," the one examining his mate states, finally the others nod and he is taken back to the flat where they help him get him to his bedroom.

Sighing, he tucks him in before going to make himself a cup of tea. While he is doing so he is alerted by Edward that there is a human female approaching their flat carrying the elder-seconds coat. He tells the man to let her through, not to react because he wishes to see what she wants. Then he silently enters the room and shields so he is invisible so he can observe what she wants. She tells his bondmate how the hiker had died before hanging his coat on the back of the door and vanishing out the window.

His bondmate awake, calling for him, and him watching as struggles out of bed. Opening the door, he reappears, and answers his mates questions, catching him in his arms as he stumbles.

"She was here for a bit to deliver your coat, but she got away, I didn't stop her," he tells his bondmate as he holds him.

"Why?" his confused bondmate asks, "Were we successful with the phone?"

"Eric has the phone," he replies, "I did not tell your brother yet, I figured you could decide if you wanted to or not."

"Oh," his bondmate murmurs, "Cuddle with me?"

He smiles answering, "Let me go turn everything off, then I will be right in, alright?"

Nodding, his bondmate tiredly collapses on the bed. Just as he is getting back to the room, he hears what sounds like a recording of a woman's sigh, and is mildly surprised to find his lover leaning against the wall staring at the phone in his hands. Chuckling, he plucks it from his fingers, setting it on the night stand before carefully disrobing the both of them and curling up under the blankets together.

Latching their hands together, they fall asleep with their bondmark's touching, his smaller body curled around his bondmate protectively as he sleeps off the day's events.


	44. Brothers

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

A great big thank you to all those people who have clicked favorite on this story, including XxPuRpLeSoApXx for being number 100.

* * *

_Chapter 44  
__Sherlock's POV  
_When he wakes up it is not yet dawn, but he finds himself snuggling into the warm body pressed close against his back, one arm thrown over his so that their wrists are lined up and touching. Slowly he stretches, his longer limbs escaping the lineup of his lovers form. As he does so, he feels his wolf come awake slowly.

"Morning love," his wolf murmurs against his back.

Turning he kisses the shorter man, "Go back to sleep, your still tired," he murmurs as he looks him over closely.

His partner smiles, "How ridiculously early is it?"

He smirks, glancing at the lighting in the room, or more exactly the lack of lighting, and determining the time. "Just after four am."

"Goddess below help me," his wolf mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. "I think I am going to try and sleep for a few more hours," leaning over, John catches his arm, pulling him down for a moment to kiss him, before curling back into the blankets and allowing sleep to overcome his body.

He on the other hand, gets out of bed and showers, considering everything that he has to do today. He is certain that Mycroft will want to know about the phone, which he technically got away from the woman but does not have because one of the pack members had gotten from him. So it was probably in Eric's hands by now, and knowing him, he had probably already broken into it and retrieved all of the information off of it. He also has that appointment with the crows today. Plus anything else that might come up. Hmmmm, best to dress for it then, slacks and nice shirt, for now, house robe over top until it is time to finish preparing to go deal with the crows.

Just a little bit after he enters the living room wearing his clothes, he is startled when there is a soft knock at the door considering how early it is before Eric comes walking in with ease.

"Sleep is over rated, yes?" the cobra comments as he sprawls in John's chair. "You're wondering why I am here at this ridiculous hour, simple really, I realized you were not briefed on how to treat the crows, and I figured I would just wait until you were up to do so. Since you are already up, I can do so now. Though, I think this officially is in Cyanne's territory for lessons."

He shakes his head, sitting down in his chair. "There is a special way to treat the crows?"

"Of course, John tends to ignore the social formalities a lot of the clans still embrace but he is still aware of them, you on the other hand are not. So here I am to fix that." A chilling smile flickers across his lips, "First off, your bondmate to an elite. You only bow to elites, and only to ones who outrank your mate. Which in the Britain there is none." He pauses, looking over at the kitchen for a moment thoughtfully before shrugging, "Second, you do have to acknowledge those of equal or close to equal rank. That can be done with a polite inclination of your head. You have been around enough human nobles to know how to do that I am sure."

Looking thoughtful he inquires, "Who is of equal rank or close to it if none are high ranked then him?"

The smile warms a bit as he answers, "Pay respects to all elders, if you are presented with the elder-second, pay respects to them as well. If there are any healers in the area, pay respects to them as well." Rolling his shoulders a bit, the taller man shifts in his seat before continuing, "Third, be yourself and observe everything. Internal politics can be a bitch among our kind. Our den has little of it because John allows for an easy approach, and is the least formal elder you will probably ever meet. Fourth, this is probably one of the most important things, allow John to do the talking until they ask permission to speak directly to you. Until they have that permission, anything they say directly to you is consider an insult to him, the kind that can start a war between our dens. We'd win, but there is no reason to decimate the crow population just because they want to be disrespectful."

The cobra closes his eyes for a moment, his expression thoughtful, "Oh, if anyone other than the elder, elder-second, or senior offers you food and drink, don't accept it. Some idiots have been known to try and start wars through poisoning visiting elders and elder seconds. They would never try that with a known of elite wolf, but a human, best not chance it."

Getting to his feet, the cobra inquires, "Any questions?"

He gives a quick shake of his head, replying, "No, it s straight forward enough. Bow to no one, acknowledge the leaders of the den. Let John do most the talking. Observe everything like I would anyways. Do not accept food and drink, which I is normal for me."

"Good, you got it," gliding silently to the door, he pauses and states, "I have the phone with me.

Do you want it? It really was easy to get into. Dumb human reeked of the answer to the lock."

He tilts his head to the side thinking about it. "No, hold on to it. I am sure you will not use the information on it."

Chuckling, the cobra replies, "No need, I can get most of it myself without any difficulty, why would I need a human's phone? Besides nearly everyone on it is human, thus of no interest to me." With one last nod, he is gone, vanishing out the door and out of the flat silently.

Shaking his head, he decides to play the violin for a bit, keeping to soft songs that will not bother John as he rests. He is barely aware of the passing of time between when he starts playing and when his lover gets up a couple of hours later.

"Morning love," his wolf tells him as he walks over to give him a slow kiss before going to make tea. Once the teas are made he sets one down in front of Sherlock's spot while taking his seat and sipping at his. "What did Eric want?"

When he finishes putting his violin away, he settles into his seat and sips at his tea, answering, "Gave me a quick lesson on how to treat crows."

"Okay, well I am going to get cleaned up, I already made the bed. No, I did not make it military style either." His shorter companion tells him before taking his cup in the kitchen and then heading up the steps to his room to collect his thing.

As he watched his partner go upstairs he remembers that he wants to talk to him about sharing a room all the time, not just part of the time. He had decided the other day it was silly for them to keep separate rooms when he kept asking John to join him in his. Something he had found amazing was John's ability to make his mind slow down just by cuddling up next to him. It was not like his mind shut all the way down, it just allowed him to process one thing at a time, rather than being in overdrive all the time. He was finding it rather relaxing.

While his lover is in the shower he decides to study the mark gracing his right wrist. It looks like a fern, he thinks as he looks at it closely, a spiral fern just opening with little speckles surrounding it. He is curious if there is meaning behind the mark, but he has not had a chance to ask John about it yet.

Just a few minutes later his lover emerges from the bathroom, wearing the funniest blue and black striped shirt and some jeans. His feet are still bare. Smiling, his mate heads into the kitchen and a few minutes later he can smell something cooking as his mate makes breakfast. He is startled when he spots John jerk his head up and sniffs the air. Frowning, his blonde haired wolf heads downstairs after turning the stove down, and comes back a few moments later with his newspaper and something even odder.

Not far behind his lover is his younger brother Aragorn with a heavily muscled man who is just a bit taller than him with dark red hair and light green eyes that seem slightly unnatural.

"Hello Sherlock," his younger brother greets him, watching him from near the door.

Slowly he stands, staring at the brother he had not seen in over a decade. The last time he had seen his brother he had been almost eleven years old, Mycroft had already left for university and he was getting ready to do his secondary education. It had been one of those rare occasions when his mother had allowed him to see his brother though it had not lasted long. At the time Aragorn had been eight, with only a three year gap between them unlike his seven year gap with Mycroft.

He had grown well, his small frame had filled out nicely and he was built somewhere between himself and Mycroft with a solid frame rather than an overweight or reedy build. His hair which had been more of a ginger as a child was now a rich dark chocolate, though he still had the light colored eyes that marked the Holmes brothers. Like him, his younger brother seemed to favor suits, though not as formal as Mycroft's.

"Aragorn," he murmurs, eyes slightly wide as he takes everything in.

His brother is a computer tech. Building, programming, hacking, you name it, and he has the markers for it. According to what he can see, his brother does not often go out into the world, preferring the safety of his office and home. Nor is he a social person.

Turning his focus to his brother's companion, his first impression is of a shifter. Only he knows that's wrong, he just does not know how he knows. The stranger is taller than his brother, but not as tall as Mycroft or him. The strangers demeanor is very similar to most nobles he has ever met with their better than everyone else tones. Hell, it's an impression he often uses himself. His clothes are impeccable, all finely tailored and of excellent quality though the design is not one he is familiar with. He cannot determine how old he is, or what he does for a living, his body has markers for several different careers that do not work together.

Slowly his brother steps fully into the flat and off of the landing, his pace easy, and the stranger staying close behind him without actually touching. In many ways it reminds him of his and John's relationship.

The silence grows and he is not sure what he should do to break it. Instead he is startled when John comes back out, left wrist uncovered and offers his arm to the stranger but not the exact same way he had seen him do so with pack members.

"Elite Alpha John Watson," he introduces himself to the stranger, eyes locked with his, ignoring his brother.

A slow smile tugs at his lips as he deftly unfastens his sleeve before the stranger grasps his lover's form arm so their wrists just barely touch, "Shalen of the Shadow Lineage."

Chuckling, the two of them let go before he gives a shake of his head and returns to making breakfast and tea. Silence still reigns over the flat as the two brothers watch each other, neither knowing how to make the first move. When John comes back with a tray of food, with for plates and tea for four, he is rather surprised. Deftly, the wolf sets everything up on the table before motioning to their guests to sit down on the sofa as he passes each person their tea.

"Your name is Aragorn, right? Nice to meet you," his bondmate murmurs as he hands his brother his tea.

"Thank you," he responds absently, before taking a sip and nodding once, "Yes, it is."

Several minutes pass in silence as everyone eats their breakfast that John had provided. He is startled to see Aragorn eating, but he just shrugs it off as something he does not really know about.

"After all of this time, why are you here?" he eventually asks because he had tried to reach out to him once before only to be met with silence. That had been right before he had finally given up and started using drugs.

The younger man looks at his plate that he had just finished with before glancing at his companion with an eye raised. An entire silent conversation, not telepathic from what he can observe but still complete none the less occurs before he answers. "Mycroft emailed me and asked if there was any way I could get around the hacker who blocks him from observing you. I did not answer him. Instead I decided to ask what your opinion was on the situation. Do you want to be observed by him?"

He doesn't know what to make of it. A large part of him wants to be pissed that Mycroft had done so but at the same time when would he have ever seen his brother otherwise? He was not invited to family gatherings often, his mother preferring to ignore his existence since the death of his father. Swallowing he drinks some of his tea rather than immediately answer.

While he is considering the answer Shalen cocks his head to the side and eyes John speculatively. "I would lay money that he has a matching mark."

A smirk curves his lover's lips, "You would not lose that one. However it is not something we have told Mycroft, or anybody not belonging to the pack."

The red-head nods, looking about for a minute, "Understandable, humans tend not to understand as well as they could."

"True enough, I would lay money that yours is as understanding as mine." His lover responds and the two men smile at each other.

Confused, he glances at his brother questioningly just to be met with a shrug.

For a few minutes there is silence in the flat, then John comments, "We're about to have company, Mycroft is on his way."

Shalen shrugs, raising an eyebrow at his brother. His brother glances at him with a curious look and he realizes he is waiting for an answer still. "I would prefer it if you did not, however I doubt you would get around Eric when he is being determined."

"Alright," he replies, "Well we are heading off. I do not want to deal with Mycroft at the moment." Both men on the sofa stand, and he finds himself standing to shake his brother's hand. Afterwards, his brother and companion both turn to John and shake his hand as well. "Nice meeting you, I am happy to see someone who makes him smile. We will have to have dinner sometime."

"Nice meeting you to," his flatmate responds to his brother, before turning to his brother's companion and murmuring, "Shadow Mistress guide you."

The taller man inclines his head, replying, "Mistress of Shadows shield you."

"Ready?" his brother inquires, of the other gentlemen.

Nodding, he accepts his hand, and a moment later the two of them are gone.

"How?" he asks, curious because he can hear that they are not walking anywhere and is certain they are not still in the room.

Chuckling, his mate cleans up the extra dishes so it is only theirs laying out before coming back and settling into his seat. By the time Mycroft makes it up the stairs, John is eating his second helping of breakfast, while he is reading the newspaper that John had brought up to him earlier.

Without even bothering to greet them, his older brother demands, "Did you get the phone?"

"No." he replies, still reading the newspaper. He is a bit miffed at his older brother at the moment but does not feel like saying anything about it. Instead he will wait a couple of days before having Eric deliver the phone to his brother. Something says the cobra would enjoy giving him a nice glare as he does so.

"What?" his brother's fury is easily noticed in his tone.

"The photographs are perfectly safe." He replies, still reading, though really the newspaper is boring.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker." His brother questions, sarcasm dripping off his tone as he gets his anger under control.

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants," he pauses for a moment, thinking to John, _her phone back, _"protection for some reason." Again he pauses, only this time he looks at his brother, "I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?"

_Has she texted and asked for it back yet?_ His bondmate inquires as he continues to eat.

_Nope_. He replies watching his brother.

Annoyance mars his older brother's features as he responds, "How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied."

Glancing back at his newspaper, he remarks, "She'd applaud your choice of words." He tilts his head to look at his brother demanding,"You see how this works: that camera phone is her 'Get out of jail free' card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft."

Pausing from eating his mate tilts his head to the side to glance at his brother remarking, "Though not the way she treats royalty." He finishes speaking with a sarcastic smile.

A humorless smile is the response his brother gives.

Before anyone can comment, his phone makes that sighing noise that she had recorded to it, letting him know that there is a text message from her. Lowering the paper, he glances at his phone, a thoughtful look on his face. The expression on his brother's face is priceless as it goes from humorless to embarrassment. John looks like he wants to chuckle but he doesn't.

"What was that noise?" Mycroft queries as he looks over at his phone.

Setting his paper down he replies, "Text," before striding over to grab his phone to check and see what it says.

-Good morning, Mr. Holmes.- TW

-Good morning, Irene.- SW

_How long before she asks for it back you think? _He inquires of his mate before asking his brother, "Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess." As he speaks he walks back to his spot, setting his phone between himself and his lover.

Sarcasm drips from John's voice as he remarks, "Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft," in between bites.

A moment later, Mrs. Hudson comes walking in carrying a plate of breakfast that she sits in front of him, she hadn't seen the fact that he had eaten earlier. Changing pages of his newspaper, he wants to smirk as she sternly tells Mycroft, "It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes."

_I am not eating that, I have already had breakfast once, _he tells his mate.

His wolf looks at him and nods once, raising an eyebrow at him in response to Mrs. Hudson he is sure.

Mycroft snarls, "Oh, shut up, Mrs. Hudson," rather rudely.

Looking up he snaps, "Mycroft!"

At the same time his bondmate snarls. "Oi!"

Dropping his head, his brother takes a moment to catch his temper before looking back up, startled that he had lost it to begin with. Finally he looks at Mrs. Hudson and contritely murmurs, "Apologies," tilting his head up a bit as if waiting for judgment.

In a dignified manner she replies, "Thank you," before turning to head towards the kitchen.

Glancing over at her he remarks, "Though do, in fact, shut up." _It was not his telling her to shut up that was the problem it was the how._ He comments to John who is still eating.

Before John can answer his phone goes off again, and Mrs. Hudson turns around to comment, "Ooh. It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?" before she goes back to whatever it is she is doing.

-Feeling better?- TW

-Of course.- SH

To his brother he states, "There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see."

Looking down at the floor, Mycroft responds, "I can put maximum surveillance on her."

Changing the page again in his newspaper he remarks, "Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her user name is 'TheWhipHand'."

_Some reason, I think Eric would do better surveillance._ John comments as he continues to eat. _Odd. I can smell Eric on Mycroft. _

_Really? I wonder why._ He responds as his brother makes a sarcastic remark.

"Yes, most amusing," a moment later his phone rings and he takes it from his pocket, stating, "'Scuse me," as he walks into the hall greeting the person on the phone, "Hello."

"So do you plan to leave it as her making that noise?" his bondmate queries with a small frown on his face.

He shrugs a little, "She set it as a joke, and it doesn't really bother me, as long as you do not care, I plan to leave it as is. Everyone else's reactions are amusing."

His partner thinks about it for a moment and shrugs, "Alright."

Almost as soon as he is done answering him, the phone sighs again.

-I'm fine since you didn't ask.- TW

In the kitchen Mrs. Hudson looks over at them querying, "Could you turn that phone down a bit? At my time of life, it's…" she trails off.

A moment later his brother comes back into the room, commenting, "Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later."

Curious he tilts his head to the side as he looks at his brother asking, "What else does she have?"

Mycroft gives him a questioning look as he tucks his phone back into his pocket.

Closing the paper, and setting it on the table he continues speaking, "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." Standing, he confronts his brother who has taken on a stony expression. "Much more. Something big's coming, isn't it?"

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this." His brother tells him in that tone that he uses with people he thinks should obey him.

"Oh will I?" he replies sarcastically. Mentally he asks, _Think Eric can have the phone to the palace before he gets there?_

_Knowing him easily,_ comes his mate's response.

Softly, his brother answers, "Yes Sherlock, you will."

Shrugging, he turns and heads over to where his violin is sitting and picks it up._ Do so please. _He requests as he tucks his violin under his chin.

_Alright._

Leaning on his umbrella his brother snidely remarks, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."

"Do give her my love." He remarks as he starts playing God Save the Queen and following his older brother towards the door.

As he walks past John he can see the shit-eating grin on his face. A single nod lets him know that he has done as he asked.


	45. Mobile Phone

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

So odd chapter, its from the charming black cobra's view rather than one of the main four… it takes place roughly during the time of Irene and Brothers.

* * *

_Chapter 45  
__Eric's POV  
_The phone had been delivered to his home by Elspeth just a short while after she had retrieved it, planting the suggestion of her phone being the same one as the one she had on the human, but with a dying battery so that the human would not use it. Apparently the pass-code had been very simple to figure out, for someone not used to dealing with shifters, she had not realized that she gave away her secrets by scent alone. Within minutes he had loaded the entire thing to his private system, the one that was not connected to any other system in any sort of way. Cannot be hacked if not hooked in. As a hacker he understood that concept.

The next few hours were spent going over the phone in detail, enjoying the thrill of it. Once he had learned all of the interesting information from it, he carefully hooked it into the same system as Elspeth's phone, making it so they would duplicate each other but never register as doing so. There were seventeen new file updates because of that. How interesting.

Bored, he stretches, mind drifting as his silk shirt rubs against his scales making him consider the last time he had found a toy to play with for a night.

With a shake of his head, he clears his mind of such thoughts and considers what to do next. Quickly checking his laptop sound system he is unsurprised to see that Sherlock is up already. Like him, the human rarely tended to sleep for long periods of time. With a smile he recalls that no one had bothered to cover the etiquette required for meaning other species elders. Well, it was actually Cyanne's job but he'd do it just to have something to do besides play hacker.

It takes less than ten minutes for him to get from his house to the flat on his motorcycle. As he approaches, he reaches with his senses into the pack link, determining who the watcher of the evening is and where they are at. Edward, owl perched on the next building over on the corner giving him line of sight to all entries into the flat.

_No need to sound the alarm Edward, I am just paying the elder-second a visit to correct an oversight in his training. _He tells the watcher he can feel just outside his line of sight. _He is still up._

_**Alright senior, **_comes the quick reply.

A few breathes later he was letting himself into the elder and elder-seconds flat. As he silently glides up the stairs he sniffs the air once to determine where at in the flat the elder-second is since he knows he is awake. Before entering the flat's living area, he softly knocks twice, and then swings the door open just enough that his slender form can slip in.

Sprawled out on the sofa is the elder-second, he is mostly dressed for the day and seems startled to see him. Trying for easy going he remarks, "Sleeping is over rated, yes?" as he sprawls in John's chair. He is well aware that it is his elders preferred spot to sit, and generally picks it because he finds comfort in his elders lingering scent. "You're wondering why I am here at this ridiculous hour, simple really, I realized you were not briefed on how to treat the crows, and I figured I would just wait until you were up to do so. Since you are already up, I can do so now. Though, I think this officially is in Cyanne's territory for lessons."

The tall human gives a shake of his head, curiosity filling his scent as he inquires, "There is a special way to treat the crows?"

He tries for a smile but is sure that it does not work. "Of course, John tends to ignore the social formalities a lot of the clans still embrace but he is still aware of them, you on the other hand are not. So here I am to fix that. First off, your bondmate to an elite. You only bow to elites, and only to ones who outrank your mate. Which in the Britain there is none." He pauses, looking over at the kitchen for a moment wondering if he should make some tea but decides against it he does not want to be here that long so he shrugs instead, "Second, you do have to acknowledge those of equal or close to equal rank. That can be done with a polite inclination of your head. You have been around enough human nobles to know how to do that I am sure."

The curiosity in his scent increases as the elder-second inquires, "Who is of equal rank or close to it if none are high ranked then him?"

Again he tries for a smile, and is pretty sure he is more successful this time as he answers, "Pay respects to all elders, if you are presented with the elder-second, pay respects to them as well. If there are any healers in the area, pay respects to them as well." Feeling the scales on his shoulders shift a bit, he rolls them to relieve the pressure a bit, shifting around in his seat trying to get more comfortable. After considering it a moment he realizes it is time for one of his annual molts. Lovely. Ignoring the itchy feeling he continues, "Third, be yourself and observe everything. Internal politics can be a bitch among our kind. Our den has little of it because John allows for an easy approach, and is the least formal elder you will probably ever meet. Fourth, this is probably one of the most important things, allow John to do the talking until they ask permission to speak directly to you. Until they have that permission, anything they say directly to you is consider an insult to him, the kind that can start a war between our dens. We'd win, but there is no reason to decimate the crow population just because they want to be disrespectful."

He closes his eyes as he pauses, the itching in his shoulders is driving him around the bin, as soon as he is home he is shifting into his snake form and allowing the dead scales to come off. The only problem with staying in hybrid form so much is the fact he does shed his scales yearly. What else was there he needed to mention? That's right, he realizes and then starts speaking again, "Oh, if anyone other than the elder, elder-second, or senior offers you food and drink, don't accept it. Some idiots have been known to try and start wars through poisoning visiting elders and elder seconds. They would never try that with a known of elite wolf, but a human, best not chance it."

Stopping once more he considers it and determines there is nothing else that he really needs to impart. All the important details are covered so he queries, "Any questions?" he really wants to get home and get the shed out of the way.

For a moment the elder-second thinks about what he was just told before giving a quick shake of his head and stating, "No, it s straight forward enough. Bow to no one, acknowledge the leaders of the den. Let John do most the talking. Observe everything like I would anyways. Do not accept food and drink, which I is normal for me."

Happy to see that his sort-of friend had caught on so quickly he comments, "Good, you got it," as he silently walks over to the door. Before going through it he decides to offer, "I have the phone with me. Do you want it? It really was easy to get into. Dumb human reeked of the answer to the lock."

Tilting his head to the side in a particularly feline way, the human considers it for a moment before responding, "No, hold on to it. I am sure you will not use the information on it."

Chuckling, he replies, "No need, I can get most of it myself without any difficulty, why would I need a human's phone? Besides nearly everyone on it is human, thus of no interest to me." Giving the human one last nod, he is gone, vanishing out the door and out of the flat silently.

On his way out he makes sure to relock everything up before continuing on his way. He is considering stopping and trading phones back with the human. No, scales first, then go visit the human toy. Perhaps play with her a bit. As soon as he was back to his small property in the city he heads to the back part where he has built himself a nice greenhouse full of lush tropical plants and a pool. It is his getaway when he is in snake form. A place where his serpent self feels most at ease. It is also where he spends his time when he is not working on the laptop, though he does have a special area set up for it to protect it from the room in case he feels the urge to work while in mostly snake form as has happened a few times.

Stripping out of his clothes, he lets them drop by the door, he will pick them up when he is done and shove them in the laundry. Gliding over to his pool, he stretches out, reaching for the sky with his arms before allowing his body to go from slender, tall human to massively long black snake. Once in snake form he slithers into the warm pool, submerging his body all the way before coming back to the surface to laze. He repeats this process several more times until he feels the scale preparing to come off. As soon as he feels his over skin getting ready to shed, he leaves the water, and loops himself around the rocks that he has randomly placed for lounging on. They are rather comfortable to him when the sun is out. A few minutes later he is shifting back into his mostly human form. Thirty feet of old snake skin is wrapped around his reclining area.

He will let it dry before he burns it, wet scale-skin always feels funny.

As he leaves his garden he scoops up his clothes and head directly upstairs to his bedroom to deposit them in the laundry before taking a shower. Once he is done with his shower, he dries off with a towel before heading to his closet to find something to wear.

Let's see, he thinks, I am going for charm before I switch to intimidation, if I bother switching over, I might not. It depends on how she reacts and behaves. Black formal slacks with dark blue silk shirt, the one done with my birth family pattern to it should work perfectly. Black pants and socks for under garments, custom fitted leather shoes. Spiked hair or not? Please, like I go without spiking it often. Focusing, he shortens his bangs up so they are the same length as the rest unlike normal and runs a hand through it to spike it up, knowing that it will mostly stay because it is wet. When he is done, he takes a quick glance in the mirror before deciding to allow the majority of his scales to fade away, leaving only the patterning on the back of his neck, hiding his den markers.

Frowning, he tilts his head to the side and focuses hard, changing his scales to the bright golden-red tone like his mothers had been. He would have to maintain his focus to keep them like that, but that was not going to be an issue. A moment later his hair matched. Smiling at himself in the mirror, he heads to the garage to get his car, deciding now is not the time for the bike.

Less than fifteen minutes later he is arriving at her home and place of business. Frowning, he reaches through the link between himself and John and carefully nudges his friend to let him know he is there before he flips through his memories for a few moments, finding the ones he needs and studying them carefully. Once he is sure he can play the part, he gets out of his car and approaches the door.

Flashing a smile at the girl who answers it with a sleepy, "Can I help you?"

"My apologies, Miss, I was directed by a friend that there was a dominatrix in residence here, and as I am only in town for a few more hours I wished to met her before I left. Perhaps arrange an appointment for the next time I am in town," his voice is low, a cultured drawl that has been useful in the past for making a person sway with need.

She vanishes for a moment, and with a quick flick of his tongue, he knows that she is going to see if Irene is willing to see him. If he timed it right, and he is sure he had, she will have no difficulties seeing him. Sure enough, not even three minutes later she is back, and the door slowly swings open, with her admitting him.

"May I ask who is calling?" she inquires, looking at him in a supposed demure fashion.

He could smell the curiosity on her, the desire to know, going for a charming smile, and if her thoughts are anything to go by succeeding, he replies, "Ethan Alexander Nicholson, from the States."

She nods, "Right this way Mr. Nicholson," she murmurs politely, shutting the door behind him.

Internally smirking, he continues to listen to her thoughts as she considers what type of outfit might work best on him to suggest to her boss. He seems like a charming person, why he would want to be dominated she does not understand but then a wide variety of people like it, not just the obvious ones.

How interesting he thinks, she is an amusing little human.

"If you can just wait here please," she directs him, leaving him in the same lounge that she had directed his elder and elder-second to the previous day.

He nods once, politely taking a seat and waiting until he can hear and smell her at a different part of the house, then focusing on projecting a copy of himself into his seat, he shields and goes over to where the safe was hidden. Quickly and quietly he checks it, discovering that she has replaced the phone there. Carefully, so not to trigger the gun or get caught, he switches out the phone. Before pocketing the fake and returning to his spot.

He had just gotten comfortable and dropped the illusion when a dark-haired human with obvious mixed bloodlines comes sauntering in wearing a leather teddy and matching spiked boots. His midnight colored eyes quickly scan her as his mind gently probes her without her seeming to notice judging by her lack of thought response. She is barely aware of the other world, the world of the shifters, gifted, immortals, and Old Gods. Interesting. She prefers to focus her attention on high powered humans and is being controlled through fear by that short, annoying Irishman. Again, interesting.

What a shame he found no interest in women, his goal had already been accomplished but he might as well enjoy himself while he was at it.

Standing as she enters the room, he does a partial bow, power to beauty, murmuring, "Mistress Adler, I do believe I was under informed of your beauty."

Catching her eyes, he smiles, allowing his mind to brush hers once again as he listens to her thoughts. She is only barely interested in him, however right now she wants to work off some stress so perhaps this new customer would be perfect. As he listens, he is amused by how much she desires that which she cannot have, and decides to plant a small suggestion that she help him, rather than hinder him. Once it is planted, he reinforces it, even as he continues to engage her in conversation.

Eventually, he inquires, "Forgive me for my bluntness, but do you ever take the submissive role?"

Her eyes widen slightly as breathing shallows out, her mind, still processing the suggestion is startled by the idea. She is the dominate, she does not bow to any man or woman. "No, Mr. Nicholson," she eventually replies, though a bit breathy.

He nods, gliding towards her silently, his charming smile in place, "In that case, Mistress, I will take my leave of you. I prefer a dominate who occasionally can take being the submissive on my bad days."

Bowing slightly, he again catches her eye and checks to see how well the suggestion is taking. Good, it is embedding itself deep within her subconscious, hiding in the deepest parts of her thoughts where the attraction and desire lay waiting.

Smiling, he leaves, heading out to the car and taking off without a second look back. He had considered bugging the place but decided it was a waste of his time. Upon getting home, he changes out the plates on his car before going to hack the records for it and changing it there as well.

Eyeballing the clock he decides to take a brief nap, it takes a lot of energy to maintain a different scale and hair color than his own. So with a small shrug he heads back to his garden, shifting into his cobra's form and stretching out to sleep. Before he passes out he makes sure that his phone is sitting in its safe spot so he will be able to hear it in case an alert comes through.

Not three hours later he is being awoken by John gently touching his mind. _Eric._

_**Yes?**_ he replies, his large eyes flickering open as he awakes, it is a couple of hours past dawn, close to ten am. So he had gotten at least two hours sleep.

_Can you deliver that link up phone to Mycroft at the palace before he goes apologizing to the queen?_

_**Of course,**_ he mentally rolls his eyes at his friend before continuing, _**that is moderately simple to do. How long do I have?**_

_About fifteen minutes, give or take,_comes the easy reply.

Sending a mental nod, he cuts the link before John can say anything more. Shifting, he grabs his phone before heading back to the garage. This was going to be a motorcycle moment. Less than ten minutes later, several speeding laws broken and very thankful that shielding is one of his strong suits, he is waiting patiently for the politician.

When he sees him approaching the door, he straightens up from where he had been relaxing an intercepts him with a frosty smile. _Mycroft._ He murmurs in greeting, into the other man's head.

Immediately he freezes and looks around cautiously, as if trying not to draw attention to himself.

_Come into the small garden a few feet, I desire a word with you. Now. _he continues, enjoying the way the human's scent shifts from anger and frustration to aggravation with a touch of fear. It is rather tasty.

Slowly, as if he had planned to step off the trail, the human does as he directs and a moment later he is allowing his shield to shift enough that the human can see him even while no one else can.

"Can I help you, Eric?" the human inquires in his posh voice. While his tone reflects nothing of his emotions, his scent on the other hand tells a far different story. Apparently he had had quite the effect on the human. How interesting, it is always good to see his work do as he wants.

"I was told to deliver this to you," he replies, holding out Elspeth's phone. "It is not the original, it cannot affect the original, however it will automatically copy any file she saves, is untraceable, and can be used to see what she has."

Blinking rapidly, the human accepts the phone, glancing between him and it with curiosity filling his scent. "Why?"

A smirk curves his lips and he takes pleasure in the way the ginger haired human flinches from it. "I already told you I was told to deliver it. Use your brains would you? If your intelligent as I have been told, then you will realize exactly how useful a weapon that in your hands is. Now if you will excuse me, I have other things to do."

Saying nothing else, he vanishes from sight, silently moving past the human but making sure to allow him to get a case of the chills that he is prone to causing before returning to his motorcycle to return home.

_It is done,_ he tells John, replaying the situation for him.

_Thank you. I will call you if there is need since we are going to see the crows in a few minutes. _His short friend replies.

He sends the impression of a nod as he walks through his front door. His senses automatically scan for other lives in his home and finding only the one in the basement, good.

Heading to his room he strips down to his skin and scales before he sprawls on his bed and sleeping.


	46. Crows

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

Sorry it took so long, real life has been a royal pain the last few days.

* * *

_Chapter 46  
__John's POV  
_Shortly after Mycroft leaves he is about to mention the crows when his dark-haired human puts his violin up and bolts to their room without saying anything. Smiling, he heads up to his old room where he still has most of his clothes at and changes into one of the more formal outfits. Sighing to himself, he dresses in the golden bronze suit that is designed with the pack pattern and declares his rank. It is not one he likes to wear, and one will need to be made for Sherlock, but for now it will work out for their needs.

When he gets back downstairs his bondmate is waiting for him, dressed in one of his nicer suits and standing quietly by the window where he plays his violin.

_John, Eric's advice is as follows, _he pauses for a breath, looking out the window,_ Bow to no one, however be respectful of all elders, elder-seconds, and healers. Let you do the talking for the most part, pay attention to everything, and don't take food from them because it could be tainted._

He nods, thinking about it before replying, _That's exactly true, though crows are not known for poisoning. I can assume they are here because you switched to telepathy._

His partner nods once, watching the scene in the street below. Not even a minute later there is a sharp knock at the door and he hears Mrs. Hudson answer it shortly thereafter. With a smile to his love, he tilts his head towards the door in inquiry. His dark haired human nods once, joining him at the door. Silently, before Mrs. Hudson has a chance to call for them, they are on their way downstairs. At the ground floor, they bid her farewell before slipping out. The young man who had come to the door seems to dance nervously in place for a moment before greeting them.

He can smell the worry and frustration off of the two crows as the one who stayed with the car opens the door for them. Kin scent is another thing he catches, so these are brothers. Both are unsure what to do, so either they do not know the proper courtesy or something more is bothering them. He is tempted to inquire, but in this case it would be considered rude, so instead he just glances at his tall mate who is watching them with narrow eyes.

A short while the car is pulling into the long driveway of rather nice house. It is one of the older houses in the area but it has been well maintained from what they can see. When they stop, the young man in the passenger's seat gets out first, grabbing the door for them. The scent of nervousness increases, as he motions silently towards the house. With a nod, he heads towards it with Sherlock at his side.

At the door, a young lady opens it with a smile, but that smile does not reach her eyes. Within the house smells even heavier of fear, anxiety, anger, sickness, frustration, and a host of other negative emotions. How odd, crows are some of the easiest going in the lot. They are self reliant and strong, so why all this? Hell, crows were the second avian race created, they rarely had the difficulties a lot of the other species had.

_Something is greatly wrong here John,_ his bondmate comments as he studies the situation. He can almost hear the whirlwind deductions going through his mate head as he looks around the house as they are shown through it. _Every shifter here is terrified, and of all the shifters I have met, this is the first time I have seen such fear. Why would they fear like this?_

_Someone has corrupted the nest link. _He replies as he looks around, that's the only time he has ever heard of this type of reaction. _Elspeth, where are you at?_

_**Directly behind you, this place smells wrong.**_ She replies.

_It does, call for Cyanne and Nathan. _He directs her as he scans the surroundings.

_**Yes sir.**_

_Eric, _he murmurs to the sleeping cobra, annoyed that he has to awaken his friend.

Despite that, the response is immediate, **S**_**ituation?**_

_May I borrow your gift for a bit?_ he inquires as they enter the main sitting room where an older man with a young woman and three children are seated. The man is mostly healthy, the woman and children are not.

_**Of course, do you want me to link to guide or will you be good doing it on your own?**_

_I will be fine, rest,_ he replies as he focuses on pulling Eric's gift into himself for a time. As soon he does, the dark empathy nearly overwhelms him. He is not used to using the negative emotions the same way his tall friend is, so he has to quickly look for the memories on how to control it as well. Once he has it under control he starts to pull the negative emotion out of the air, using it as a power source and feeding it directly into the ground below.

"Elite Alpha Watson, I welcome you to my home. My thanks you have for your willingness to assist." The old man greets him, slowly getting to his feet, however there is something wrong with how he moves.

Slowly, he inclines his head slightly, recognizing the others position without demeaning himself in the process.

"I am Elder Owen Wilson, this is my bondmate Elder-second Salome Wilson nee Rosen, and our three children Karmen, Tobias, and Malachi." He continues, his voice soft.

To each of them he also nods respectfully, however he continues to draw the dark energy he can feel crackling in the air to him. How in the hell does Eric live like this all the time? he wonders as it continues to pour through his body. It's tiring.

"May I also introduce our nests healers Pita and Kieran." He remarks motioning to a pair standing to the side.

_Mind if I act all rude and like me? Because this standing still is getting us nowhere and I think I know what's happening, you're a doctor, inquire about the rest of the nests health. _His bondmate remarks as he starts to turn the slightest bit towards the others gathering in the room.

"My greetings," he replies to the crow as he studies him. _Not just yet please, I think that they are about to show their hand, according to all the dark energy in the room, though I cannot figure out the motivation for what's going on just that._

_Dark energy? You will have to explain later, along with about how Aragorn did his vanishing act. _His bondmate replies.

He gives a single mental nod, still watching the visibly older crow.

"Elite Alpha, I request that your bondmate Alpha-second use the Gifts he is known for to discover what is going on with the nest." The older looking man intones, his voice going rough as he starts to cough into his sleeve. "Forgive me," he murmurs before clearing his throat to continue, "May I speak with him directly?"

Nodding once, he tilts his head and studies the children, "Of course, Sherlock can speak for himself."

While the crow and his bondmate speak, he barely pays attention. Instead he switches to iota sight carefully looking over first the children, then the mother, before turning to the nest elder. Each of them were full of something, it did not look exactly like illness but he was not sure what it was, it was not registering as an unnatural poison either and natural poisons were not his specialty. From there he turns his head the slightest, bringing more of the nest mates into his line of sight and using his vision on them. Many of them show the same signs of poisoning as well, including the two healers who are both almost completely out of power.

_Eric, I hate to disturb you but can you identify something for me?_ he sends the query to the mostly sleeping cobra. His dark friend excelled at poisons, along with an entire host of other things. Sherlock could probably figure it out using his science equipment but he was not sure the children had that long left to live.

_**Your vision,**_ he remarks as the cobra slips into his mind and shares his iota sight with him. _**Taste the air for me,**_ he requests after a moment.

With a quick flick of his tongue he licks his upper lip, and does as requested. _**That's a combination of spider venom and snake venom, its eating their bodies. Whoever is mixing it is not very nice person.**_

The link cuts out, but he retains the dark empathy that he had borrowed from the tall man.

Meanwhile his bondmate paces slowly around the room checking each and every person in rapid motions without saying a word before coming back to stand beside him and tilt his head to the side. "Is this the entire nest?" he inquires, his low voice vibrating through the dead silent room.

The elder-second is actually the one to answer, a small shake of her head, "No, most the nest is at there respective homes, many are ill, there have been three deaths," her voice breaks as she says this, and she pulls the smallest child close to her, worry clear in her scent.

"Call them together," his dark-haired human just about demands, his attention very focused on something. For some reason his eyes keep going back to a man over in the corner. He is older and frowning, watching his mate with a dark expression.

Slowly the female crow nods and he feels a gentle buzz as a mass telepath call goes to all of the members of the nest. He knows that they will come as they are bidded and while he does not like to be out numbered so much, he also knows his mate probably has a plan.

_Call for Daria, John, she is an iota and a doctor. _His mate remarks, _I think someone is poisoning them but I cannot figure out the type, their bodies lack any of the signs I am used to seeing. _

_Eric says it is a combination of snake venom and spider poison. _He replies as he calls for the viper. Apparently she had come with Nathan because when she responds she is nearby. She has also brought Jace, though she will not allow him in until the poisoner is found.

"Elder, my mate has called for our iota because he feels she may be of assistance, may she enter?" he inquires, keeping his tone neutral because a lot of clans are offended at the concept of their healer not being enough.

Before the elder can respond, his bondmate does, "It was my suggestion we call for assistance, he is of the clans, he is known for his intelligence, if he says we need a different healer, then please do call for them. Anything to figure this out." Her voice is cracked and full of sorrow as she answers and he watches as her mate tries to comfort her with subtle touches.

Without asking, his mate leaves the room to investigate the rest of the property. A large part of him wishes to go with but another part, the part trained in formal manners remains perfectly still as he debates about what to do. Within minutes his bondmate is back, eyes still narrow as he looks at each person in turn again and then starts to move them around much to the shock of the crows. As new crows arrive he carefully studies them as well before placing them into the groups he has made. When the house is over flowing with crows, as is the yard around it, Daria comes walking in and there is a kind of cold fury on her face. Most of the crows can smell that she is a viper and they visibly with draw from her, terror in their scents. The dark empathy goes into over drive.

"Eldest, I have been called for?" her voice is soft, but there is a lash of anger as she studies the room.

His dark-haired human answers before he has a chance. "Yes, of course, you are a viper right?" he inquires cocking his head to the side and looking at her but also looking past her.

She nods, "Indeed," she remarks her scales covering her for a brief moment in shimmering blues, greens, and purples.

"Would you look at this set please? I divided them based on what I could determine." He shows her to the smallest group he had made, there are a total of six people in it, all of which are scowling at him and trying to back up but running into a wall.

She turns her attention to the group he has pointed to, and steps closer, her mate is close behind her, guarding her as he always does. Slowly she studies each before flickering her tongue out to catch a taste of their scent. It was a gift he did not envy the snakes for having. When she is done she steps back and arches one delicate eyebrow.

"These three do not taste of the taipoxin that is in the air." She remarks, her hand slowly wavering between the three.

"Thank you," he murmurs as he looks at each of them in turn. "You're not it, you have a snake in your bloodline so the venom does not touch you. However do talk to your lover about her infidelity. It is the first case I have seen within an actual nest. Also try acting with a bit more confidence and you will have better luck getting that promotion you want." He tells the first one before turning to look between the second and third ones. "One of you is poisoning everyone. Why?"

It is a male and female set he is looking between but his mate's eyes are narrow as he studies them. "I see," he eventually murmurs taking a step back, "it's both of you."

Before anyone can say anything the female lunges forward, her hand curled into claws as she reaches for his tall mates throat. Only his mate moves faster, tripping her and stepping down on the center of her back to keep her still. The male doesn't get a chance to do anything because Nathan wraps him in his long tail when he shifts to his half-form, the gleaming purple-blue scales holding him still.

"What?" the old man cries out staring at them, "Why?"

"She wants a child but is unbonded, it caused her to feel jealous of every person with a family within the nest, which happens to be most of you. He wants to bed her but knows it is wrong because they are siblings. I am not sure which one came up with the idea, I think it was her." his bondmate looks down at the female he has pinned beneath his feet as he pauses for a moment. "She works in a zoo, around animals, so she carefully milked the venom from various creatures and then proceeded to give it to all of you in small doses. This has been in the making for a very long while. She probably volunteers to help the sick, when in truth she is poisoning them further."

The old man sighs, staring at her with tears in his eyes, "I don't understand, we are family, why?"

"Family?" she snarls from the ground, his bondmate steps off her back so he can grab her, "The only family you care about is your own. The rest of the nest is just a means to an end for you! I hate all of you!"

"Do you have somewhere to put her while she awaits council?" he inquires of the crow.

The crow shakes his head sadly, "We have had one of the most peaceful histories among any of the species, there has never been a need before."

"Daria, make her compliant please." He orders the viper, knowing that she would love a little bit of retribution right now. This might not be her den, but she never takes well to children being harmed. The crow should feel lucky it is not Eric who is here because his punishment would have been a lot swifter and a lot worse.

She nods, her small hand shooting out to grab the crow by the throat as her mind locks on. A moment later the crow is staring blankly at the floor, her mind has been locked away. Turning her attention to the male her mate holds, Daria repeats the process with him as well.

"There is the shadow of something in her mind, something it would take a full mindhealer or a telepath to read. I would actually suggest he check them, but that you are here if he does so." She does not have to state what he she is talking about. Their pack only had one extremely powerful male telepath.

"Elder, can we attempt to heal the children?" he requests as he looks at them, there are many and most are nearly dead.

The old crow nods, "Some have tried human doctors but they could find nothing wrong. Pita and Kieran have been trying their hardest but you can see it has spread them a bit thin."

He nods, glancing at Sherlock who is looking at them thoughtfully, before he can comment however his bondmate speak up, "I'll get the strongest anti-venoms I can get my hands on if you want to work on the children." Without waiting for an answer he heads out the door and he is really happy that Elspeth is well adjusted to his mate because otherwise he would be worried.

_Daria, how would you like to do this? _he inquires of the other healer.

_I will take the older children, or the children with lesser cases, you are the stronger healer, you take the younger children and those that are close to death._ She replies.

He nods, then looks around focusing his iota sight back in and proceeding to separate them further though his bondmate had done a good job of placing them in groups by how badly they were poisoned. Once they were sorted, he went to work, on the children, starting with the nest elders youngest who was the worst case he had seen. Eric's dark empathy was now being used to power his healing instead as he worked on each child. He was a little over half way through his collection of little ones when he heard his mate barking orders at someone. A few minutes later a few wolves came slowly and cautiously walking in with his mate not far behind, he was giving directions without stopping to ask once if it was his right or not.

"Can one of you two tell me which poisons which people have?" his mate demands, looking between him and Daria.

_I will, I am running out of healing gift and I am doing nothing more than strengthening their heart and organs. I cannot burn all of it out, it takes too much energy. _ She comments, getting to her feet, and walking over to Sherlock.

The two of them start to go through slowly through the adults. Even though he is not listening in, he knows that Daria is using the pack link to speak with him, the taste of emotions and illness heavy in the air is probably messing with her. Eventually she pauses, eyes getting narrow and a moment later a very subdued looking Jace comes in, it is obvious he is uncomfortable, but she proceeds to showing him how to use his iota sight to spot the difference between the types of venoms used.

Meanwhile he keeps working on the children, using the energy provided by all the negative emotions to fuel his healing and burning the venom from the children even as he repairs their insides. He is going to need a long nap when this is done. Even channeling energy from elsewhere was tiring. However he continued to work, and by the time he had completed all of the children, his bondmate, pack iota, and the pup with the thera's gift had completed their rounds of the adults. It was a good thing Jace was a quick study because somewhere towards the end of the adults they had run out of anti-venom and he had gently inquired on the pack link if there was another way. He had paused working on the child he was with for a moment to go over to the wolf pup and help guide him through the burn process, telling him to be extremely careful not to overdo it.

When all was said, there had been more than one-hundred and fifty crows they had treated and it was well past dinner time.

"Alpha Watson, alpha-second, other honored guests, please allow us to feed you before you return home. I have already sent some of the healthier mothers after brand new food and everything else to ensure that no taint is in it." the elder-second requests as she holds her now healthy child.

Most the families had left after being healed, they had offered a great deal of gratitude and thanks before retreating to their homes to probably purge it of anything the two poisoners might have come in contact with.

For a moment he considers it, sharing a speaking look with the rest of their small group before finally nodding. Someone found a set of chairs for him and the others to sit and most of the nest left it seemed like. It was mostly silent until someone found a piano and slowly began to play various ballads on it. A small smile curves his lips as he listens.

Just before the various crows that had food had gotten back, a loud scream had rent the air sending both him and Nathan to their feet instantly. Sniffing the air he had almost started to laugh when he caught the scent of the packs most rebellious member.

"Mind if he comes in? He is just going to do so anyways knowing him." he inquires of the crow elder.

"As long as you can promise he means no harm." The elder-second answers.

Snorting, his bondmate responds, "He likes kids, the only ones that have to fear him are the ones in the basement." There is a pause then he remarks, "And any who want to harm kids or John."

The crow stares at his mate for a moment before slowly nodding, "Alright."

_Come in but try not to scare the hell out of everyone. _He tells the cobra who he can feel pacing.

_Me? Scare people? Never. _His tall friend replies as he glides into the house, making most step back as far as they can. A few of the children look at him curiously before their parents pull them back as well. _Please crows taste nasty in the air, why would I want to eat them? _He inquires on their private link.

"Eric," he groans as he comes into sight.

The cobra politely inclines his head towards his bondmate and him before extending the same type of greeting to the crows.

_I'll take the majority of my gift back now, dark empathy is not your field. I will channel energy to you to keep you going until you get home. _Eric informs him with seriousness as he drops down to a kneeling position beside him and waits patiently. _Since you are determined to stay for food because you feel it is polite, I will make sure I think for both of us. Mind if I root around in those two's brains? I solemnly promise not to harm them. _

_Be careful about it would you, _he replies.

From beside him he feels as Eric links in with the two no longer in the room. A short time later there is a low hiss from the cobra. Almost as soon as it escapes him the pup is beside him asking if everything is alright. His voice low as he stares carefully at Eric's face.

Not long afterwards several small crow families come back, all of them baring a variety of foods.

Some of the younger crow children upon spotting the kneeling cobra edge closer to study him. The tall cobra smiles gently at them and when one of them touches his scales at his tilts his head a little giving the girl free access.

"They feel different than mummy feathers," the girl lisp.

A small smile curves the tall man's lips, "They are scales, care to see the rest of them?"

She nods, pulling her hand back and watching as he flares his hood out. Several of the other children join her, and soon he has been pulled outside to play with the little ones for a bit.

_All the food is safe. _The cobra tells him as he is pulled outside by the gang of kids.

The scent of shock fills the air as the adult crows take turns watching through the window as the cobra plays with their little ones.

"I never would have imagined," one of the females mutters right before she calls for supper.


	47. Crows Part 2

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 47  
__John's POV  
_Dinner went surprisingly smooth considering the fact they were surrounded by a bunch of nervous crows who did not know what to think of the deadly creature carefully playing with the children and making sure that each of them stopped to eat for a bit. Through all of it, the cobra kept his dark eyes focused mostly on one of the small girls that seemed to stay off to the side more than play, however he never allowed any of the children to look directly into his eyes. When one of the adults inquired about that his head whipped around, his obsidian eyes catching hers and a moment later she was swaying as his cobra mesmerizing ability stopped her breath, he looked away before she fainted.

During dinner he glanced over at the female viper sitting with her family and queries, _What did you see in that child's mind?_

_Not much, sadly I cannot really recall the differences in any of the children. None of them stood out to me, nor do I recall any with any of the specialized gifts. _She replies as she nibbles at the pork chop on her plate.

Nothing more is said between the two of them. His bondmate has started talking with a small group of teenagers who wish to know how he had figured out who the guilty party was so he is explaining the concept of deduction to them. The wolf pup Jace is watching all of the people around him, an edge of nervousness to his actions, but his eyes keep returning to the cobra surrounded by children. The female viper is speaking with the nests healers, while her mate is seated behind her quietly watching. He is fairly certain that Cyanne and Elspeth had collected food when no one was looking and found somewhere to eat but have not yet left the area.

When they are done eating, the cobra goes back to playing with the children, he is intentionally tiring them out, he realizes as he watches them. By the time most the children are sleepy, they head upstairs to the children's nest, a room designed for large amounts of sleepy children. After most of them have went up to nap, Eric lifts the one he had been keeping an eye on with ease, cradling her against his chest as he makes his way to where he is seated.

_Fix her, _the cobra commands, his eyes searching the room until he locks onto a man in the corner. Aloud he comments, "I am going to do house cleaning. This den has bad blood."

The crow elder-second jumps at this announcement, staring hard at the cobra as she considers his words. "What do you mean 'bad blood'?" she inquires watching him.

"You have two who have been corrupted by a gifted one into attempting to kill their den-mates over petty jealousy. Another who feels it is fine to harm a child because that child is different." He replies, his voice a low hiss that travels through the room with every adult aware of the threat even though the children are not. "If there are any others with sins that could be deadly, they may wish to speak up before I find them."

She blinks, looking at her bondmate and he gets the impression they are talking.

_Your not fixing her John, fix the child,_ the cobra repeats as his eyes stay on the man in the corner.

"Jace, come here," he calls the younger shifter over.

Immediately he moves, stepping up and kneeling next to where he is seated with the cobra so close. "Elder?"

_We are going to heal the child, _he answers the pup using the pack link, _If Eric says there is some wrong with her that needs healing, then there is. He does not have the healing gift, but his form of empathy allows him to detect when someone is ill or injured._

The younger shifter nods, his eyes shifting over to the child cradled so carefully in the tall mans arms. "How?" he asks curiously.

_I will link with you and show you,_ he answers the teenager, carefully connecting their minds together. _Are you aware?_

Slowly the pup nods and he can feel the amazement flowing through the younger man.

_This is how you switch to iota sight, also called healers sight, _he tells the boy as he does so, showing him how to do so as well. _It is similar to what we did previously. Now starting at the crown of her head, carefully scan over her, your healer's sight will show anything that is physically wrong. _

The younger man does so, stopping just short of the end of her head and frowning, _What is that brightly lit area? _

_Your healers sight telling you where the problem lays. It appears to be a red color near the base of her skull yes?_ he answers and questions.

Nodding, Jace doesn't take his eyes off of her.

_That is nerve damage, unnatural nerve damage, caused by someone using blunt force on her. _He explains, then continues, _this is how we heal it. S_tep by step he walks the younger man through the healing until all of the damage to her nerves has been healed. Then slowly the two of them cover the rest of her body. He can feel the crows watching but none of them dare say anything because they are terrified of the cobra that holds the child close. By the time they have finished, they have also touched up some of the breaks to the bones of her ribs that had not been properly treated. At one point he had pulled Daria into the link and she was appalled that she had missed such signs.

Rubbing his jaw softly against the little girls head when they complete their work, he feels as the cobra gently rifles through her mind before carefully handing her to Jace and suggesting the pup take her up stairs to the children's nest. A worried expression settles on the pups features as he nods and does as directed. Once they are gone, the rest of the children taking the suggestion to

go with him, Eric stands with that fluid grace that all recognize from his cobra movements.

"Three minutes," he murmurs, there is a quiet fury and promise of pain echoing through his tone, "then I will be checking each of you for taint. John, Sherlock, Daria, and Jace have healed all of you of the poisons and venom, now let's see what else needs to be dealt with. Do not bother trying to leave, I will check even those not here, believe me when I say I can."

Four crows admit to theft from humans, one admits he wants to find a second mate because his first does not seem happy with him, and three admit to beating the shit out of a bloke because he tried to steal their car. All of these are ignored. The man that Eric's cobra's gaze is focused on says nothing, continuing just to stare.

He can feel that there is something wrong, but since he is not an active telepath the way that Eric is, he does not know what it is. While he could activate his telepathy, he does not want the flood of information that would come with it. Instead he will wait with the crows, because he knows that the cobra will soon say what the problem is, probably in a highly violent manner.

_Something is wrong with him, _his mate murmurs, _the man in the corner has the look of someone who is trying to hide something. I cannot get a clear enough view of him to determine what it is he is trying to hide. _

_Alright love, though I think Eric already knows and plans to do something about it, _he responds as he watches the cobra.

Sherlock nods, returning to his discussion with the teenagers.

Not long after that those black eyes gleam dangerously his he sweeps the room one more time. He can feel the power swelling around theblack cobra, knows that he is preparing for something but does not ask, he also knows that the cobra will explain himself only when ready to. When no one else steps forward his black eyes swing back to the man in the corner, and he watches as the cobra mesmerizes him, bring him to the front of the group with his predators gaze.

_Care to tell everybody why I have singled you out?_ Eric inquires with a hiss in a broad telepathic murmur ever crow hears.

"For …" he starts to answer but bites his tongue to stop and glares at the cobra who is smiling mockingly.

_Go on, confess and perhaps not die a painful death. _The cobra mocks the crow.

A snarl escapes the crow as he attempts to lunge at the cobra only Eric side steps with a cruel smile allowing the crow to smash into the wall.

_Fool. I am an elite black cobra who served in the military for nearly ten years. It will take more than that to touch me if I do not feel like being touched. _

The crow does not get a second chance however, because two of the bigger crows in the room latch onto him and push him to his knees before his elder and elder-second.

Frowning, the elder-second reaches a hand out, pressing her fingertips to the crows forehead center. A soft light covers him as she focuses on him. One breath later, she pulls her hand back and turns her head towards the cobra that is standing perfectly still. Every crow that was near him steps as far away from him as possible.

"You are well known, black cobra," her voice is soft as she speaks, her eyes never leaving his face. "He is guilty of the crime of child abuse, the intent to harm a child, and for allowing a child to be uncared for." She pauses, closing her eyes for a moment, "Had our nest not faced so much misery lately it would have been noticed sooner, however due to the actions of the other two, his crimes were not noticed."

Again she closes her eyes as she takes a deep breath. Slowly standing, her mate staying close a she approaches the cobra, she continues, "Our nest owes your nest a debt we cannot hope to match. However, in bring this to our attention we also owe you a debt for Kala's life. I have already discussed it with my bondmate and elder, he is yours to punish as you see fit." Pausing, she looks around slowly, "I am tired," she murmurs before turning her attention to the rest of their group, "We, all of us in the nest, thank you. You did not have to heal our children or help us, for that we are in your debt. Perhaps later we can discuss this? One of the boys will make sure you have a ride home," she tells us.

Smiling, he stands and gives a partial bow, "What type of healer would I be if I did not help as I can? Now as a doctor I would suggest you get some rest."

While he is speaking, the cobra had carefully moved past the couple, making sure to give them space in order to not upset their guards who were watching him closely. With a dark smile he moves to stand directly behind the man, forcing him to his feet before sinking his long fangs into his shoulder and letting him drop to the floor.

_He will be dead within a few hours, between now and then all of his organs will burn and he will scream non-stop within his mind feeling every bit of pain he ever caused Kala. If I had not already been aware of her having other relatives I would take her myself, but I know that they come for her, so I do not. However, I will watch over her for the night with your permission. _He hears the cobra remark.

Many of the crows stare at him in shock including the elders of the nest. Slowly, the elder nods, his voice rough as he answers, "Your protection will be appreciated."

Without another word, the cobra heads up the stairs three at a time, ignoring all the eyes on him. _John, I have the small laptop with me, I will still be tracking the cameras, I had my phone set to alert me if someone tried something._

_Alright, have a good night, _he replies.

Almost as soon as he is upstairs nearly every adult starts speaking at once.

"Everybody, be quiet!" Sherlock snaps, he does not raise his voice but pitches it to carry instead.

The startled crows listen, most looking around in shock.

"Your elders probably know exactly what they are doing. It is a guarantee that nothing will get near those children tonight. Can you say that about at your homes or at any other time?" he remarks scathingly, "John, I think it's time to go."

He chuckles at his bondmates behavior, knowing this is one time he is well aware of all the customs his words are breaking and the fact he is bring the focus to him instead of allowing them to continue being loud.

The wolves that had helped with the anti-venom leave first, after thanking everyone for the food. Daria and Nathan leave next, though they are edgy to do so, their bondson being upstairs with the crow children, however he is asleep and they do not wish to disturb him, it is the first time since he moved in with them several months before that he has not been at home for the night. Finally they go after completing the formal farewells however they state that they do not need a ride. Once they are ready to leave, he shifts into a wolf, allowing his lover to climb onto his back before they take off for home. Tomorrow is soon enough to talk about the day's events.


	48. Into Tomorrow

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 48  
__John's POV  
_As soon as they were within their flat, he proceeded to strip his mate of his clothing as he kissed him senseless. His mate should never smell like a crow and currently he did. The wolf in him was not pleased by this and was determined to fix this problem as quickly as possible. Once his bondmates coat, jacket, and shirt are off, he pushes him against the wall, cupping his face in his hands as he returns to kissing him.

"John," his lover groans as he releases his mouth and proceeds to kiss down his jaw to his slender throat.

"Yes Sherlock?" he murmurs as he sucks on the pulse point of his tall human's throat.

"Mmmmmmm," he mumbles in response before asking, "What has you fired up?"

Blunt fingers travel down the planes of his lover's body to unfasten his slacks as he continues to kiss, suck, and lick at his neck while pressing him against the door. Instead of answering aloud he replies, _You smell like crow. Call it one of my primitive moments, but you're my mate, you should smell like me._

A low chuckle escapes his mate at that pronouncement and he is not sure if he should nip at him for daring to laugh or not. Instead, he drops to his knees, pulling his mate's pants and slacks down as he does so. As soon as he has the leggings off of him, he proceeds to licking, kissing, and sucking on his stomach and upper legs, just barely brushing his mate's member as he works the area completely around it with his hands and mouth. He smirks against Sherlock's skin as he listens to him moan, enjoying the fresh scent of his dark-haired humans arousal as it fills the air.

After bringing him to the edge of bliss on several occasions he stands, kissing his way back up his lovers body before pulling his head down in order to kiss his mouth. Several more minutes pass with the two of them rubbing against each other as he holds him in place and kisses him, keeping his lover senseless. Eventually he breaks off kissing him, to spin him around, pressing him against the door.

_Sherlock, tell me to stop if this is uncomfortable. _He tells his mate as he fishes through his jacket pocket and pulls out the small bottle of lube his mate had shoved in all of their coats and jackets.

_Don't you dare! _His mates mind voice is firm even as he moans and arches back against the hands moving him into position. _Though aren't you over dressed? _

_I'm fixing that, _he replies absently as he strips off his clothes in less time than it took to remove Sherlock's. Once he is bare he resumes what he was doing, this time taking to fingers and slowly working his lover's hole open for him.

"John!" Sherlock's voice is demanding as he pushes back against him, need and arousal filling the room.

As soon as he is sure that he is not going to hurt him, he pulls him down a little as he thrusts up and in.

Both of them moan, and for a long while the only sounds that can be heard are those of skin on skin and the noises that escape both of them as he fucks him hard against the door. Finally, when he can feel that his mate is getting close, he snakes an arm around his waist and starts stroking his mates cock in time with his thrusts, making sure to hit against his prostate as well. Within moments both of them are coming, Sherlock all over the door and his hand, him deep within his mates ass.

Carefully withdrawing, he can feel the blush covering his skin as he glances at the mess he made of the two of them and the floor.

After a few minutes of heavy breathing his dark-haired human remarks, "Well that was an interesting reaction. Shower than cuddle?" he suggests.

Still blushing, he nods, leaning down to scoop up all of their clothes to put in the laundry basket before joining his love in the shower. Slowly the two wash each other which leads into another bout of love making. If the first time was frantic, this time ends up being slow and leisurely, as if they have all the time in the world. They start in the shower, but end up stretched out on Sherlock's bed with his lover being the one on top this time. When they are done, he fetches a warm wash cloth to clean the two of them before they curl up together and pass out in his mates bed.

oOo

_Eric's POV  
_After receiving permission from the crow elders to head upstairs to where the children are, he quickly informs John that he will not be slacking his normal tasks just because he has decided to guard the children for the night. Even if the crows had said no he still would have done so, he just would have shielded first and masked his scent then snuck up there. This was easier.

Upon getting to the room where he can hear the thoughts of so many young people he carefully opens the door and looks in, his dark eyes scanning the sight before him. There are several beds set up in the large room, a couple of small sofas, plus what appear to be random bean bag beds and piles of pillows. Jace is currently sprawled on one of the bean bag beds with a small boy curled up against his side, while several other children are crowded close together so their body heat is shared among them. Kala is tightly curled up on one of the small mattress.

With a light smile, he wanders towards her, gently lifting her when he is next to her. She stirs, blinking up at him tiredly with a timid smile curving her lips.

_Rest, I will protect you until your Uncle Kevin gets here, _he tells the small girl as he finds a comfortable spot by the heat vents to settle.

She nods once, snuggling into him and falling back to sleep.

Carefully, he removes the backpack he had kept shielded and takes his laptop from it. Reaching over, he snags a small table from beside one of the beds and pulls it closer, settling his laptop on it with one arm, while he continues to support her with the other. Once the laptop is open, he sets it to the lowest light setting so he can still see but it will not bother the children before getting to work checking the files he needed to review from the day since it had been slightly crazy. There was nothing new, nor anything he really had to work on. Twitching his shoulders in a partial shrug he sets it to keep going before changing how he is positioned so she is laying long ways against him and his head is resting on a pillow. He has his dark empathy and telepathy open so he will be aware of any threats long before they reach them.

Sometime in the night several of the other small children wake up and spot him. Each of them coming over to where he is positioned and finding a way to cuddle up next to him so his body is surrounded by littler ones. With each addition to the numbers his eyes flickers over them as he checks to make sure there is nothing wrong. By the time morning comes and he feels the first of the children waking for the day, he has been surrounded by small bodies, each curling against each other or him.

As the children wake up, they start to move around, some of the ones who had not had a chance to touch his scales the day before asks if they can now.

Smiling he queries of them, "Would you like to see my snake form?"

Almost all of them clamor yes, including Kala who has not moved from her spot against him even though she is awake. Carefully setting her down he makes sure he has room before shifting, his long black tail takes up most of the floor room. He holds perfectly still as the different children take their time touching his scales. Some run their hands along them feeling the edging and such, others merely poke at them. Several of the small kids climb on him and have fun sliding over the other side of his body.

Somewhere along the way Jace wakes up and proceeds to laughing at the sight of all the children crawling all over him but he says nothing.

Through it all he keeps his telepathy open, listening to the thoughts of the adult crows that are gathering as they awake. When he hears one of the mothers coming up the stairs, he gently reaches for her mind, murmuring, _Be warned I am a large snake with children using my tail as a slide. _

Apparently she thought he was joking because as soon as she opened the door and looked in, she let of a blood curling scream before fainting.

He rolled his eyes at the dramatics. Most of the children who were playing on him stopped to look over at her before shrugging and going back to playing on his tail. Her older child, a little boy around ten, hurries to her side to check on her, as does Jace. As soon as the child is sure she is fine, he comes back over to join the other children in playing. Jace meanwhile finds a comfortable spot to sit as he watches the various children and the adults who come to stare.

He just gives a shake of his massive head, not bothering to warn any of the other adults that he can hear rushing up the stairs. A few moments later the door is full of shocked crows watching as the various children take turns playing on his tail.

_Shouldn't all of you be doing something other than stare? I am certain I have been told at least once that staring is rude. _He remarks to all the adults in the room and door.

Most of them shake their heads in shock. Some collect up their children and bid him a good day before heading off. Almost all of the children ask him to visit again before heading off with their parents. Eventually, there are very few children left, just the crow elder's three children, Kala, and two little boys who have kin-scent to the elders.

As he smells breakfast downstairs, he returns carefully to his human form, packing up his laptop and backpack before putting it back on and re-shielding it.

"Come on, little ones, I smell food, surely you all are hungry after spending the last hour climbing on me." he comments, carefully giving a small push with his mind to get them to get them to go eat. It works with all of the children except Kala who looks up at him with bright brown eyes that have golden rings in them. Her, he carefully scoops up before raising an eyebrow at the wolf pup who has not moved from his spot by the door. "Everything alright?" he inquires, politely keeping out of the younger shifters thoughts.

Blinking rapidly, the smaller man stands, stretching, "Sorry, I was drowsing," he murmurs.

He nods once and the three of them head downstairs. Upon getting to the kitchen, he carefully sets the small girl down, before making her a plate to eat. When the crows offer him a plate he ignores them in favor of watching to make sure that she has no difficulties with the food, and listening to the thoughts of most the adults here. Jace's are just on the edge of his awareness and he actively seeks to avoid them as he listens to the crows.

About the time Kala completes eating her breakfast, he hears the thoughts of an older crow male and a slightly younger bluebird female. They are here for Kala.

As he waits, he quietly looks through both their minds, making sure that they are suitable for the little girl before they ever have a chance to get to the room. A few minutes later, they come walking in with the crow elder.

"Kevin, Tania, this is Eric and Jace of the Watson pack, they helped us deal with the situation yesterday." The elder introduces the two newcomers to them.

He glides forward a few feet, his tongue quickly flickering out to lick his bottom lip and taste the air as he does so. He says nothing as he does so, taking a measure of how they react to his presence. Surprisingly enough, while the crow steps back, the bluebird steps forward challengingly.

_I must thank you for helping our niece out. When her parents died two months ago in a car accident, she was injured and we were in the States, visiting my family. I was attending to my sisters birthing. Chet had assured us that he would have no difficulties taking care of her. _She tells him, her mind voice high pitched and cheerful, _Had we_ _realized that he would harm her, we would have been back sooner. I can feel the healing gift within her, it not yet manifested when we were home last. She will be properly trained. You are welcome to visit as you like. I get the impression that both you and her would appreciate it._

_Unusual,_ he murmurs as he shifts closer, seeking to see if she would flinch or not. Instead she holds perfectly still, her eyes following his movements. _Very few start the contact with me._

_You are a black cobra, I have nothing to fear from you._ She replies, her mind voice still cheerful. _Cobra's are only dangerous to those that they have a bone to pick with. You have no cause to have one with my mate or I. I grew up around cobras. When I was a nestling, a fire destroyed most of my home because of Hunters. A nest of cobras found me, you can imagine it was terrifying since I had heard many times about the terror a cobra can inflict. However the family that took me in treated me no different than their nestlings. By the time I was an adult, I considered myself more cobra than bird despite the fact I turn into a bird. I am still in touch with my serpent family despite the fact I am now a part of a nest of crows who are highly wary of them._

She brings forth the memories of her childhood, the fire that nearly killed her, and the cobra that found her and took her home to the couple that would become her family. They were all golden colored cobras with darker brown markings. Despite that, he knew that she would have been raised with similar familial values as his own.

With a polite smile, he steps back a bit, bow slightly. _I have already executed the sorry excuse for a crow that was her other uncle. If you will excuse me Tania, I have duties to attend now that I do not need to worry over Kala's protection._

The bluebird bows slightly, the bow of one cobra to another, before she replies, _Again our thanks. Come visit some time, I am sure she will appreciate it, and I would appreciate the company of someone who understands tradition. _

_Ready Jace?_ He queries as he does a partial bow to the bluebird, and politely inclines his head the rest of the adult crows he feels deserve respect.

"I, yes, of course," the pup replies slightly startled out of his thoughts.

Kneeling down so he is level with the small crow girl, he brushes her rich brown hair out of her face as he bids her farewell, _I have work I need to do, however your Uncle Kevin and his mate Tania will take good care of you. If you ever need me, just reach with your mind and you will find me, I promise._

She nods slowly, eyes wide as she stare at him before throwing her arms around him in a hug.

Smiling, he hugs her back before straighten and heading towards the door without another word. He had made sure that he had a link formed to the girl while she was sleeping. In the months to come he would make sure to check in on her from time to time. Jace quickly babbles his farewells before trotting to catch up with him just as he reaches his motorcycle. After getting on, he passes the younger man his helmet before calling his scales to the surface of the rest of his face and head, along with the second set of eyelids that would protect his eyes from the air. Moments later the two of them are on the road as he heads towards the viper's home to deliver their bond-hatchling to them.


	49. July and August

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

One other quick note: there are two pack meets a month. The meeting held on the full moon is called the month pack meeting, the one held on the new moon is always called a new moon meeting. Full moon meetings tend to be the serious type, new moon ones are more like social events.

* * *

_Chapter 49  
__John's POV  
_In the next few weeks between the June pack meeting and the July pack meeting seem to go in a flurry as life picks up. He works at the clinic on days when they need him, other days he works with Jace on learning to focus his healing gift on days Daria has to work, he spends time with his bondmate, has the occasional drink with Greg, and works on his duties to the pack. So the day of the next pack meeting goes smoothly. Unlike the previous month where there had been fun events, this one goes dully, the only eventful thing being a couple of the wolf pups ask his mate if they can learn chemistry from him and he agrees though when they get home he is not sure where to do so at.

The morning after the July pack meeting, he awakes to the sounds of Sherlock in the kitchen puttering with his equipment.

Stretching, he gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom to get cleaned up before going to kiss his bondmate good morning on the side of his pale throat before moving on to make tea. Once the tea is done, he sets a mug down for his mate before going to his seat and drinking his while considering his plans for the day. The first thing to do is talk with Mrs. Hudson about 221C before he continues.

A few minutes later, he heads downstairs to her flat, knocking softly twice so not to alarm her.

She opens the door, with a smile, "Good morning, John, what can I do for you?"

"Morning," he replies, leaning against the wall as he asks, "I was wondering if we could lease out 221C as well? I will have it cleaned up and remodeled. You don't have to worry about that."

She blinks at him for a moment, before answering, "Of course! But what's wrong with your flat? You two did not have a domestic did you?"

He gives a small shake of his head, replying, "Nothing's wrong with the flat, some of my cousins have talked Sherlock into helping them with their chemistry and I do not want several of them doing experiments in the kitchen, since my inheritance has recently come through, I have some spare money and figured it would be easier just to rent C from you. Then the downstairs can be turned into a lab, with complete proper ventilation of course."

Now that she is reassured, she beams at him, bustling back into her flat and grabbing her key ring. A moment later she returns and hands the key to the downstairs flat to him. "Here you go, just be careful would you? The mould and dampness aren't safe."

He nods, smiling, "Thank you, probably tomorrow or the day after the contractor will be by to check it out."

She nods, and he bids her farewell before going back upstairs to text Eric, only before he gets there he feels the brush of the cobra's mind against his.

_Yes? _he answers the mental request for attention.

_I am getting ready to go over to Kevin, Tania, and Kala's house, would you like to come?_ The cobra queries in response.

_Let me see what he has planned for today, and if it does not include mad dashing across the city that sounds like a fun idea._ He replies as he finishes heading up the stairs and heads to the kitchen. "Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?" his mate answers distractedly.

"Are you planning on leaving the flat any time soon?" he queries.

"Nope," the tall human absentmindedly replies.

He nods once, stating, "Alright, I am heading out with Eric for a bit. I have rented 221C to have it turned into a lab for you and the pups to use. I'll have a contractor here tomorrow to determine what all needs to be fixed in it."

"Alright," his mate responds still focused on his project.

Shaking his head, he heads out, calling for Eric as he does so, W_here am I heading?_

_Outside, I have the car today, decided it might be easier to use then the motorcycle if you decided to come along. _The sarcastic cobra replies as he opens the door and spots his tall friend leaning against the side of his racer.

Chuckling, he shakes his head before closing the door behind. "Your still something else."

_Of course, ready? _The tall shifter replies as he slides into the drivers seat of the car.

Smiling, he climbs in the passenger seat and has barely fastened his seat belt when the cobra is off, the vehicle moving at an alarmingly fast rate of speed but he knows better than to comment. It is rare that the cobra ever drives slow. With his ability to hear thoughts for several blocks away, he is good at keeping track of other vehicles and reacting long before anyone else would have ever had a chance to. Within a few moments they are pulling in front of a moderately nice small house several miles from the flat.

As the two of them get out of the vehicle, a pleasantly plum young woman with light ginger curls comes walking out the front door. Surprisingly large blue eyes light up when she spots the tall cobra. It is a different reaction then one he normally sees in fellow shifters.

_Greetings! _She murmurs in their minds.

Hs is startled when his tall companion does a partial bow towards her. It is not something he tends to do. _Good morning, Tania, my I present the elder of my den, Thera Elite Wolf Elder John Watson, this is Thera Bluebird Tania Pierce. _

The bluebird female bows low, similar to the bows that Eric has given him on the rare occasions he follows tradition. _It is good to meet you Elder, I thank you for your assistance with my niece. _

He inclines his head politely, healer to healer. It is rare that the cobra will voice the fact that he is a thera, but then considering she is one as well, the chance of their being problems is little. "Nice to meet you," he murmurs. Curious, he tilts his head to the side and inquires, "Is there a reason you prefer telepathy? I know he does it because he cannot stand tasting everything as he speaks."

_My sister recently gave birth, she nearly died, and I asked for mercy, the price for her to live was I cannot use my voice for one year. I am a good telepath, so it is alright. _She explains, _it means I deal only with shifters, otherwise I stay away because I do not wish to risk being noticed by non-nest members. _

He nods, understanding exactly what she means. The Shadow Mistress never asked a price that was impossible, but the price was always something that was worthwhile to the person paying it.

_Come in, please, Kala will be excited to see you. S_he tells the pair before opening the door to her home and motioning them inside,

Once inside, he can smell that there are two crows present, one being the child he had healed a few weeks previously, the other being an adult male. When they get to the dining room, the little girl is eating her breakfast, when her head jerks up and she smiles.

"Hello sweetheart," Eric murmurs aloud, greeting her. _Hello Crow Kevin, this is my den Elite Wolf Elder John Watson._

"Hello Eric," the little girl replies after she finishes her bite of food, "You came to visit!" her tone is a combination of excited and shocked.

The cobra smiles at her, nodding and answering, "I said I would, this is John, do you remember him?"

She nods slowly after staring at him through a few bites of food. When she is done eating, she quickly takes her dishes to the kitchen before grabbing the cobra's hand and leading him out of the dining room, he cannot help but smile at the sight of the tiny girl leading him away.

"Is it safe to leave him with her?" the crow inquires, glancing at his mate with a bit of nervousness in his expression.

_Of course, it is no different than leaving her with one of my relatives._ The bluebird replies as she cleans the dishes in the kitchen.

"No offense love, I know your relatives, he is cobra with a reputation for being deadly." The crow replies still staring at the door the other two had just left through.

_As well he should, all cobras are deadly, however it is a commonly known fact that all cobras like children too except the oddest of their kind. He is no different than any other cobra in that regard just because he is marked as a Blessed One. S_he replies, her tone serious as she puts the dishes away. _Now be polite to our other guest. _

Her mate flushes, as he turns to face him, "Sorry, after everything that has happened lately to our family I am nervous about anything that might be a danger. Though if Tania says he is safe, then I will trust her word, can I get you some tea or coffee?"

"It's alright, as an alpha I can understand the worry, particularly since I served in Afghanistan with part of my pack for nearly ten years. Tea would be great thanks," he replies to the nervous man and suddenly understands why he is here. Eric brought him to meet the healer for one thing, and to comfort this crow for another.

The next few hours are spent with him chatting with the crow and his bluebird mate while the tall cobra spends the time playing with the little crow. At some point the two of them go outside where he carefully throws her in the air and catches her while the three adults watch from the living room window.

"She has the markings for a crow, but has not yet shown any sign of wishing to shift. I do not know if that means that she is going to develop late, or if she is going to be one of the ones who can only partially shift." The crow murmurs as he watches the tall man with his niece.

"Trauma can cause the shift to be delayed," he remarks, watching with a smile. This is a side of the cobra that is rarely seen by their pack mates because the rest of the pack tends to keep him from pups. "Give her time and I am sure she will shift with no problems."

The other two nod and the three of them go back to the conversation that they were having. Not even an hour later, the cobra comes in carrying a very sleepy Kala tucked against his chest up to her room. A few minutes after that he is back downstairs, inquiring if he is ready to go. It reminds him so much of his mate he cannot help but laugh as he bids the crow and bluebird farewell and heads to the car with his tall friend.

As they are driving back to the flat, he tells the cobra about his plan for 221C. When they pull up to the flat, a solidly built man is waiting on for the one the sidewalk.

_Eric what have you done now? _he inquires as he studies the stranger.

_You wished to get a contractor to repair the flat in 221C for a proper lab, this is Owen Chambers, a crow from the Wilson Nest, he owns a contracting company that specialize in medical and chemical research labs. You saved the life of his daughter and grand children. _The cobra replies with a shrug as he shuts the car down and joins him on the sidewalk.

_Eric. _ He sighs warningly.

_It is completely legitimate, I merely informed him he may have a client and where to be as we were driving home, I was even polite about it. _The cobra replies before making the introductions between them. Once that is done, the three of them head in and he shows the crow to the basement and explains everything that he needs this lab to be able to do. While he is speaking, the crow is quickly writing notes and asking questions here and there for clarification. When he is done telling him everything that is needed he repeats the information back to him to confirm. Upon getting a confirmation, he bids them farewell and says he will have a team over the next day to begin the process of preparing the flat to be fixed.

Once the crow is gone, the cobra and him head upstairs where he makes everyone tea while Eric sprawls in his chair.

"That's going to cost a fortune," he mutters to himself.

He should have expected an answer because the cobra hears him and remarks, "Not really, he will not charge you for the labor, and he will get all of the supplies and materials needed at contractor prices so it will cost less than if it was just you going to buy the things. Everything will be up to code. I will make sure that the security for it is solid." The cobra accepts his tea, "thank you," he mutters appreciatively.

Shaking his head, he sits down on the sofa and glances over at his mate who is still working on his microscope still. "Thank you," he finally tells the tall snake.

After finishing his drink he shrugs, standing, "Its part of my job you know, drive you nuts by getting projects done fast, quick, and in a hurry. And look, no intimidation needed, all of it was smooth because they are feeling thankful."

With that the cobra leaves after placing his cup in the sink.

The rest of the night goes smoothly, he even manages to talk his lover into eating a few bites of dinner though it is not as much as he would like, it is still better than nothing. After checking with his mate about bed, he heads up to the room on the second floor and passes out. Knowing Eric the next day is going to be the beginning of a rapid fire action filled few weeks.

The next morning comes as early as it always does, and includes a visit from Mycroft during which time Sherlock pauses from his experiments long enough to share a cup of tea with his older brother while sharing cutting remarks between them. His brother has a case that he would like him to consider. He is surprised when his mate accepts the case and shortly after the team of crows shows up, they on their way out.

Old Gods be thanked, it ends up being a moderately quick case. His mate has it solved and the person who is causing the problems in Mycroft's custody before dawn the next day. As the two of them collapse into bed he inquires why they had done it and his mate mutters something about the other guy being a famous chemist that he wanted to meet but had been disappointed by the man.

The weeks between the July pack meeting and the August pack meeting going mostly the same way as the ones between June and July, the noticeable difference being the works who seem to always be going on the flat downstairs. During that time there is also five different cases from Greg that they end up helping with. The last one ending when he had snapped one of the suspects neck in a fight because the man was trying to strangle him while his partner had been beating the shit out of his mate. Greg had not been pleased to only have one of two, but the surviving one had been very willing to talk as long as Greg kept him away.

Two days prior to the August pack meeting the 221C was done and he was able to present it to his mate who seemed to be completely surprised by it. Where before 221C was a dark, moldy, wet mess, it was now a well lit and well ventilated lab that could rival the one at Barts. One of the bedrooms had been turned into a walk in refrigerator, however there was also two regular refrigerators for his use as well. Apparently the set up pleased him because he was quickly pinned to the door of the newly made lab while Sherlock kissed him senseless.

To say they got nothing done for the next few hours would not be an understatement.

The rest of the day went towards him relaxing while his bondmate fluttered about moving all of his equipment and supplies from the kitchen and living room down to the now ready lab. He was even able to get him to eat an actual dinner though he is not sure what the occasion is besides the completion of the lab. They are just getting ready for bed when a text comes in from Greg asking for their help because there has been a triple homicide and he has absolutely nothing but three dead bodies.

It's probably a good thing he spent all day relaxing he thinks as the two of them take off. It looks like it is going to be a long couple of days. Somehow they manage to accomplish it just in time to do the August meeting and he is thrill when it is done, because he is ready to go home and sleep. Once done with the pack meeting they do just that.


	50. Lessons

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 50  
__John's POV  
_Another month seems to fly by and by the end up September a pattern has been reestablished once again. He works two or three days a week at the clinic, covering shifts for the others as needed, has the occasional night out with Greg, Mouse makes her twice weekly trips to the flat to work with his mate on the packs history and any other useful information about the world of shifters, and twice a week two to six of the teenage pups comes over to work on experiments and chemistry with his mate.

Those first few times had been highly amusing as the pups had collected up all of his randomly scribbled on notes and somehow put them into coherent order, then turned around and quizzed him to retrieve all of the missing information until they had completed the projects and had them in a logical system that the youngest of pups had typed up on the special computer system the packs cobra had installed. Each time they come over the first thing they do is see if he has any new experiments and if so properly record them.

According to Tobe, the oldest of the wolf pups, they find the various experiments to be highly interesting, particularly since his mate lacks some of the gifts of the shifters yet is able to notice things that the wolf pups sometimes missed. While some of the girls disliked body parts, of the eight of them that regularly alternated, three wished to become police and had decided to learn what they could from their alpha-second who often worked with their single Scotland Yard member. The fact that the alpha-second was able to outdo the detectives was something all of the pups thought was a great thing. They wanted to be able to do it too.

So when Greg called while the three oldest were there, his bondmate accepted the case even though he said it was a no more than a four with a smirk. "Come along John, lets see how well these three have been listening."

All three wolf pups dance around for a moment, full of excitement before straightening up and grabbing their coats. Expectantly they stand there waiting for the two of us to head out so they can follow. If they were in their wolf forms their tails would be wagging.

Shaking his head he looks at each of them carefully before stating, "You will follow all directions given by myself, Sherlock or Greg, is that understood?"

"Yes alpha," they chorused still looking like excited pups.

"This person may be dead but they still deserve respect, the Earth Lord watches and knows when it is not paid."

All three bow their heads respectfully before chorusing again, "Yes alpha," their tones more serious now.

"Come on John, lecture them later," his impatient mate demands from the front door.

He is just wondering how they are all going to get there, a total of five of them is not fitting in a cabbie when a sleek black car similar to Mycroft's pulls up only it has a crow driving it instead when she gets out to grab the door.

"Hello, Elder Watson, I got a message from the venomous one stating that a mode of transportation was needed as per the contract." She states with a smile, "I'm Cassie."

"Hello Cassie," he murmurs just before his mate gives the crow the address and clamors into the back of the car with the three pups.

Shaking his head, he joins the others in the car and a moment later they are on their way. The three pups are silent as they patiently sit there, while his mate is looking at them speculatively. He merely watches out the window as the car goes down the road. A few minutes later they are pulling up outside of the crime scene, and she is parking the car off to the side so it is out of the way but convenient for their return use.

When they approach the perimeter it is with Sherlock in the lead and him bringing up the back with the three boys in the middle.

"What do you want freak?" she demands stepping in the way. He is not surprised when Sally Donovan tries to stop their small group.

What does surprise him is how the three pups flank her.

Tobe, the oldest of the group to study with his mate, steps directly in front of her, looking down his nose at her the same way his mother does when she is questioning someone. "You must be the jackal without a pack. I would suggest you have manners." He states loftily, his mother is a lawyer he understands perfect well how make someone back down.

Aaron, the pup who had taken her right side tilts his head to the side studying her, "Really though, you are breaking no less than three pack laws, is it really a good idea to be insulting to a pack alpha and his alpha-second?"

"She's a bit dimwitted," the third pup, Konrad, states from her left side, "Perhaps she has been hit in the head too many times," he suggests as he steps into her private space. He had been taking lessons from the cobra on how to intimidate and use his natural gift of telepathy. "However, I doubt that is the problem, now be a good little jackal and call the detective inspector."

_Greg, I think your detective is having a bad day,_ he comments to his friend using the pack telepathic link as Sally calls him on the walkie-talkie.

"Freaks here, with extras, bring them in?"

This time when the pup to her left shifts closer he growls low in his throat, "Mind your manners, wolves are the second oldest race, jackals the sixth, your damn near human according to scent and without a pack. I think you should recall your place."

Before she has a chance to say anything all three step back and into line and watch as the jackal-child who is part of their pack approaches.

"Hello detective inspector," the three of them chorus as if they had not just been causing problems for his detective.

"Sherlock, John, why are there three pups with you?" he greets them, waving the female jackal away.

"We're learning about deduction and chemistry from the alpha-second, sir," Tobe answers, "each of us is interested in law enforcement in some way."

"With your permission we would like to see if the lessons of the last month have been any use," this is out of Aaron, using his most diplomatic tone.

For a moment the silver-haired jackal-child looks at each of them before sighing. "This is so not right," he mutters before waving them through.

_Eric will make sure all the paperwork is legal so you do not have any difficulties over this with your bosses. However they did take offense to Sally's treatment of Sherlock and you may hear about that later, _ he remarks to his slightly older friend as he follows the detective inspector into the scene.

_As long as your sure, I don't need extra grief,_ the jackal-child replies as watches the three teens out of the corner of his eye.

Anderson apparently is smarter than Sally because he takes one look at the three of them carefully flanking Sherlock and steps back as they approach. When they get to the side of the body, all four stop, the three pups looking for permission from his bondmate before carefully looking over the victim without ever touch her. What he finds amazing with his mate, he finds downright hilarious with three who are each studying her without touching her. Finally all three stand close together by her head and look at Greg as if waiting.

"Well?" the detective inspector inquires when he realizes they are waiting for an invitation.

"She's a street fighter," Aaron states.

"A good one too, she's only dead because she was blitzed from behind by someone far bigger than her." Konrad picks up, "someone who cracked her skull on the first hit."

"Despite that, she got a few good shots in before going down. The person responsible for it was her lover at one point, but no longer," Tobe remarks as he studies her again. "He belongs to a gang or human pack, she did not. That's what ended them."

Tilting his head to the side, Konrad comments, "You will find that her day job has something to do with children, possibly teaching, more likely tutoring or nannying."

Turning to face his bondmate the three wait patiently for the judgment on how they did. Sherlock nods at them, then carefully checks her as well, "Well you got most of it, the only thing you missed is the why. She has a new lover, or is about to, and her previous lover is not happy with this. You will find that there have been several domestic incidents reported at her address, the man from those incidents is the murder. Mention the fact that his gang boss was the one who she was going to start dating and that you will let him know why she is now dead and he will sing like a canary." His mate doesn't even pause before turning and heading back to the car with the three wolf pups close behind.

Standing next to him the jackal-child remarks, "I am not sure if I should be concerned or not, scary enough when he does it, but to see three more people who aren't related do it just as easily is remarkable. How many is he teaching?"

"Eight of them, three females and five males. Nearly all of the pups over fifteen, I think he is one short. Some of the slightly younger teenage pups are considering taking lessons as well, if only for just the chemistry part to improve their science abilities." He pauses shaking his head a moment before looking towards the car, "It is surprising, he is caustic with adults but patient with them, or as patient as I have ever seen him. He seems to view them as an experiment and is treating them with care. However, he did lose his temper with Leah when she started quizzing him on all the missing information from his experiment notes, and surprised all of us when she ignored the loss of composure and kept on working.

_John, are you coming yet, we have experiments to do while I still have them for a bit._ His mate comments in his head.

Shaking his head again, he bids his friend goodbye before heading over to the car. He can feel the female jackal watching as he gets in with a cold look on her face. Perhaps he will need to deal with her on a more personal level because this is not going to work. He will not tolerate the behavior towards his mate.

When the five of them get back to the flat, he politely thanks the driver, inquiring if he needs to pay her or not and she shakes her head no, before telling him that the venomous one has already taken care of pay, and has paid quite nicely. He nods once, bidding her farewell before heading inside. The four are already down in 221C and from what he can hear they are discussing the case that they just left. Shaking his head, he stops to say hello to Mrs. Hudson before heading upstairs to the main flat to make tea and work on his pack related work.

Getting lost in his tasks, he barely notices as several hours pass, and soon the pups are filing out of the flat, each stopping to bid him good day before leaving. A bit later, his mate comes upstairs and heads straight to the shower. For someone who works with chemicals and other nasty things at times, he is rather oriented on being clean. It makes for an interesting combination. While his mate is in the shower, he puts his computer work up and proceeds to making dinner. He had just finished with the food as Sherlock comes walking out, a towel low on his hips and another rubbing at his hair.

"John, what can you tell me about Konrad?" his mate inquires as he heads into his bedroom to grab some clothes.

When he comes back out, he replies, "Konrad is the son of Kim-ann and a German black wolf who died in a car accident three years ago. They were another example of a bond not treated right, she didn't want to go to Germany and he did not want to give up his career. So they split the custody of Konrad and only saw each other during her heat. She had been on a plane back to London, Konrad at his paternal grandparents' house visiting when his father's breaks went out and smashed into the side of a semi-truck on an icy road, it was the last freeze of the year. After that he stopped going to Germany but his German and Russian relatives come here every year for his birthday. He is closest to his paternal great-grandmother who has a home just north of London and stays there for a few weeks a year just to spend time with him. She is actual the one who advised him to seek lessons from Eric because he is a strong telepath. I had originally arranged for him to have lessons from Jeffery, the packs omicron because I did not think he would accept them from Eric." He pauses shrugging, "While the other pups were asking you for lessons, he was asking Eric. The shock the cobra felt was rather amusing."

His mate nods, grabbing his plate and settling into his chair to nibble at his food. Over the last few months his mate had gotten better about eating, and while he still does not eat nearly enough, he is closer now than he had been.

"Do you know what his goal is?" his mate inquires as he finishes his food.

"To work for the pack as a tracker," comes his reply as he continues to eat. "he wants to hunt rogues."

"I've heard that term before, what are rogues?" his mate asks as he sips at his hot chocolate.

"Rogues are those who like to harm others for the pleasure of it. The criminal class among shifters and gifted. Trackers are the law enforcement of our kind. Then there are the Hunters, those who kill the other race without cause. Eric lost his family to a pack of Hunters, and he went on a Shadow Goddess blessed hunt himself. It's how he got his reputation actually."

For a bit the two of them were silent, neither saying a word as each considers the information he had just shared. He can just about see the wheels turning in his mates mind. Finally, Sherlock inquires, "Cyanne has not answered me about the Old Gods. Why? I hear them referenced often."

He sighs, setting his plate aside, "It's a sore subject among our kind and left purely within families to determine how to react. In total we have seven Old Gods as we call them, and they are rarely called by name. Human gods and goddesses do not answer to those who serve them. They rarely respond to prayers, pleas, or any other form of communication. Our gods on the other hand, answer rather regularly. Particularly for elites who are the direct descendants of the first of our kind, those considered the children of the gods."

He pauses, looking off into space as he thinks, "There are three males, and four females among the Old Gods. By our mythos, all life is created by the Shadow Mistress, Verhaiya, Goddess of the Void. From her begins all of creation, all destruction, and everything in between. It was her will that brought forth the other six, they who share her aspects."

He stands, collecting the dishes and heading into the kitchen with them, he doesn't actually wash them, just put them in the sink, he will wash them in a bit, right now he is still considering how to continue this lesson. It is a difficult one for him to do because he knows that speaking their names calls their attention since he is an elite. Returning to the living room, he sits down and continues, "After the Shadow Mistress, comes the twins Iyora and Emberan, Dusk Daughter and Dawn Son, the Goddess of Darkness, and her twin brother, the God of Light."

Taking a deep breath he glances over at his mate who is staring at him in fascination. "By our mythos, the last four all appeared at the same time, though the females are often listed before the males when considering the order. There is the Wind Keeper, Ayanuh, Goddess of the Air; Sea Mistress, Cydrianah, Goddess of Water; the Flame Lord, Phuryphaen, the God of Fire; and Earth Lord, Thalon, God of Earth."

Again he pauses, he can feel the attention of the Old Ones on him so he sends up a silent apology, explaining quickly that he is teaching his mate of the Old Gods for he is human. Almost all the attention vanishes, except for her, his patron goddess.o

"Now the Old Ones are very active in our world, even if you do not see it. Any elite can call on their patron, whether it be personal or racial, to assist them. However to do so there is always a price. Depending on who the patron is, is what type of price a person will be paying, for each one of the Old Gods has a different idea of prices. From there it is important to understand that a lot of those who follow the Old Way, or the Deep Traditions as they are also called, are very aware f rank and placing. Then there are those who follow what is called the New Traditions, very similar to the Old Ways but lacking one key feature, the fact that our kind can request assistance from the Old Gods. The last set follows the human gods and has often turned against those who show any sort of favor from the Old Gods. All immortals are children of the Old Gods and one of the other species, whether it is shifter, gifted, human, or non-related immortal. The gifted used to serve the Old Gods but have turned away from them for whatever reason, or their beliefs have been corrupted into a more human like thinking and that's why there are problems between our two races."

He stops to rub his neck before asking, "Does that answer your questions? At least for now, because I really do not like the attention I am currently getting."

His mate nods once slowly, and he watches as he gets comfortable on the sofa, falling deep within his mind to consider the information. After all, he has learned rather a lot today about the pack, their traditions, and how well the pups are picking up the skills he is teaching them. While his mate is lost in his mind palace he works on cleaning everything up in the flat. In the back of his mind he can still feel her presence and he is not sure what to do about it.

* * *

AN: Sorry this took so long, RL has been a royal pain in the rump the last couple of days.


	51. October Birthdays

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 51  
__Sherlock's POV  
_He had been surprised when the wolf pups had approached him about receiving training in chemistry and deduction. Then he had surprised himself by agreeing to do the lessons. John, upon hearing of this had acquired 221C for his and his new students use as a lab, then proceeded to have it converted. While he had known what his lover was doing, he had not realized quite how much thought had been put into the idea until he was able to see it. He had been flabbergasted by the sheer beauty of his lab. It was as good as Molly's at the morgue.

It was a good thing that he had been alone with John when he was showed his new lab because the first thing he did was snog him senseless which turned into more pleasurable activities.

Now, almost two months later he was still thrilled every time he stepped into his lab. Today however was not going to be an experiment day, instead he was getting the things ready for tomorrows lessons with the wolf pups since tonight he was going to the September pack meeting.

While he was there he wanted to find out from John aunt when his love's birthday is. Originally he had been surprised to discover that his aunt was the one who's home the meetings were at. When asked why, his lover had shrugged and said it was tradition, not explaining why that first meeting when John got back had been held at their flat then. The hours pass quickly between when he begins to prepare for the following days lessons with the wolves and when it is time to get cleaned up to go to the pack meeting. Like any time they are going to a pack meeting, he cleans himself up and dresses in one of his better outfits, like every time they go to the pack meeting, he enjoys the ride on his lover's wolf form back.

Upon getting to the Watson family property he kisses John on the cheek before ambling away to find the older female wolf. Sadly, he could not remember her name, which probably was not a good thing considering that they were family by pack standards. Still, she was easy to find and he waited until she did not seem busy to actually approach her.

"Hello Sherlock," she greets him without turning to face him from the direction she is pointed. "It's Sandra, or Aunt, most the pack calls me Aunt since I am one of the older members alive right now that is still an active part of the pack. There are others, older than me that are not as active within the pack, they are waiting to see how our lovely young alpha does before declaring their allegiance."

"Sandra," he repeats, "Hello, do you know when John's birthday is? I would like to do something for him without his knowing preferably."

"The October new moon meeting is on his birthday, I have considered doing something with the pack for it, there was a time when the leading family's birthdays were celebrated, but Eric stopped that. I have considered suggesting to John that the new moon meeting being include a small celebration for all of the month's birthdays but I do not know if he would go for it."

He tilts his head to the side, considering it. It would be a very useful way for the pack to bond, particularly since his wolf was still trying to find ways to get both sides of the pack to work together with ease, something he rarely did. For the full moon meetings, the Devon portion of the pack always sent a representative but otherwise they avoided the Watson pack. Wait, did that fall under the domestic side which if he remembered correctly was the alpha-seconds job within the pack?

_Eric, question for you,_ he reaches through the link he is well familiar with after his time spent with the cobra.

_Yes? Do you wish my physical presence? Or will you ask through here?_ The cobra replies, his attention is barely on him.

_As alpha-second, would it be within my realm to arrange for social events within the pack? _He queries of his friend.

A mental snort reached him before the reply, _Of course, though I nearly shudder to consider what is a social event in this situation. _

He mentally chuckled back at the cobra before filling him in on the conversation he had just been having with the older wolf. Then he fills him in on his idea for the birthday party.

_He would appreciate the group idea better, I will have a list for you by tomorrow not of all of the October birthdays that gives you a little over a week to make a plan and execute it. Now I have some wolf pups who are demanding attention since you informed them last month that I like to play._ The cobra replies with a mental chuckle as his focus goes from the subject at hand to the two French pups that had joined the pack a few months prior after John had healed them.

The rest of the meeting goes smoothly, his head only partial on the details though he pays attention to the Devon pack representative, something seems off about him.

The following morning John heads to work like normal, while he goes downstairs and waits for the pups to arrive while considering the birthday concept. His mind was still on the subject when Konrad, Dora, Abigail, and Leah all show up for their lessons. First thing that Leah does upon arrival is make sure that all of his notes from his experiments are well organized. While she is doing that he makes sure that each of the four has their kits. Thankfully enough, even though he is distracted, there is little in the way of explosions as they each start their experiment with the seeds and whether they can still grow in various types of acid instead of soil and water.

Afterwards, the four bid him a good day before heading out and he returns to his planning. Thankfully, one of the things included in the information Eric sent him was a list of every pack member including birthday, familial ties since a lot of the pack is related in some way or form, secondary form if they have one, interests, and contact information. Its nearly as complete as a file from Mycroft on a person. Using that information in the chart he carefully considers a variety of options for what to do as a way to celebrate the birthdays, while his main focus is John, he knows that his lover would prefer he focus on the others if he was to know about his birthday plan.

Using his phone, he was able to arrange with a few of the pack-members he was certain would keep their mouth shut and help him out. Aunt Sandra volunteered to make the cake for it, but she needed the list of names of everyone who had an October birthday. Mouse had volunteered to do decorations when he had told her what he was planning, and a few of the mothers when he alerted them to the celebration plans had promised to bring food of a variety. He had also enlisted the help of Daria for planning some games and such for the younger members.

Over the next few days he got everything organized so on the seventh of October all he had to do was text everyone to make sure they were ready. Sure enough they were, and he was very pleased to see that nearly the entire pack was there, even the Devon members he had invited with October birthdays or family members with October birthdays.

When he and John first got there, he checks with Eric to make sure everything is ready. After the tall cobra confirms that everything is ready, he heads to the back where they normally have the actual meeting at there are tables set up with chairs surrounding them, a long table with a wide variety of snack foods laid out. His bondmate gives him a curious look, he can read the question of why it seemed party like in his eyes.

Smiling, he heads up to the little gazebo where his mate normally makes his announcements from and calls for attention. Pretty close to everyone listens, except for some of the Devon pack members who are there and end up having some of the Watson wolves snap at them.

"On suggestion from one of the esteemed lady wolves, and because it fit wonderfully with my desire to celebrate the fact that John is still alive when he almost wasn't, I would like to wish every single October birthday a happy birthday, including our alpha, who's birthday is today." He tells the collected group before he begins to recite the names and birthdays of each of the pack members born in October. Most of the people listed were actually children, including small Philip who was so new to the pack.

Once his announcement was done and all of the birthday wolves were called to the front, Aunt Sandra had the cake brought out, it was a massive wolf of various types of cake and frosting, the tones mimicking those of the wolves for who it was a gift for. With a smile, the older wolf cuts the cake and proceeds to handing out pieces, making sure that all the children get a slice first before moving on to the adults. There are also gifts for each of the people whose birthday is this month as well. For the children, it is a variety of toys and such, based on interests, while the adults got more practical things for the most part. He had paid a pair of crows to do all the shopping, wrapping and labeling so it would not get back to the gift recipients with a contract to do so again in the following months.

From somewhere a radio starts playing a variety of music, while all the smaller pups are gathered together to play games and have a pleasant time. A pleased smile curves his lips as he watches the results of his planning, enjoying the fact that everything seems to be going smoothly. The real gift to John hadn't been the cashmere jumper he had selected for him, it was the effort to help the pack bond, because he knew that it bothered his bondmate that the various packs were not merging as smoothly as they could. This would be a good way to help fix that. In a little bit the party part would die down, and they would hold the normal new moon get together which was more of a meet and greet anyways with very little in the way of formal information occurring anyways.

When it was done, and everyone was on their way home, there was a more pleasant feeling in the pack link then he had ever felt before. Several of the teenage pups had helped clean up without being asked to, and he made a note of it, to make sure that they were thanked, though it probably would be nothing more than a quick text message from him doing so.

Upon getting home, the two of them head in from the shift and is second surprise is waiting for John. The flat has been cleaned and redone to almost match the first time the two of them had come together after the incident by the pool. He had enlisted Daria and Mouse to pull it off, and it looked just as perfect this time as last. Only he had added a few of his own touches to the mix, including a long feather that he had been told was erotic to play with, though he could not figure out how, and a variety of sundae toppings that had been suggested as a part of a playful moment according to many of the sites he had been on.

"Sherlock," his lover murmurs softly, pulling him close and kissing him as the door is closed, "Thank you, love, for all of it."

He ducks his head, unused to being praised for getting something right when dealing with a relationship or other people.

Smiling, his wolf lifts his head and kisses him again, a long slow drawl of a kiss, his blunt fingers gently cupping his face. Slowly the two of them make their way over to the rug that has been placed in front of the soft fire in the fire place. Gently, his lover unfastens his coat and throws it on the sofa while he strips him of his jacket and throws it towards his. From there, the two take their time undressing each other, worshipping each inch of skin as it is uncovered by seeking hands. When both of them are bare, they sink down on their knees still touching and kissing.

Carefully the two of them make love, each taking a turn as top and bringing the other to their peak. Somewhere along the way his John had noticed the sundae toppings and had decided that he needed to see what they taste like on his skin, it was one of the most erotic moments of his life as the chocolate had run down his chest with John's flat tongue following it, swirling around his nipples and belly button before continuing downwards to his cock. By the time he was done, he had a brand new appreciation for sundae toppings. And while the night pasted in a blur, they never did get to playing with the feather when they finally passed out exhausted on the rug to sleep after their fourth round.

Over all he was certain he had succeeded at making this one of the best birthdays his lover ever had. Next year was going to be fun to top it.


	52. Lunch with Mycroft

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 52  
__Mycroft's POV  
_He was surprised when his PA told him that he had lunch scheduled at Angelo's, he never made lunches for Angelo's but she was certain that it was. So at the appointed time he had his car deliver him to the restaurant where he discovered his brothers already sitting and talking. Both of them. He cannot remember the last time he saw both his brothers at the same time.

"I see that he was effective at adding lunch to your schedule," Sherlock remarks as he spots him, turning back to their other brother, he continues, "He is really good at that," there is a smirk on his middle brother's face and those mercurial eyes seemed to gleam.

"Hello Mycroft," Aragorn murmurs, "We've only been here for a few moments, I was the first to arrive."

"Good afternoon, brothers mine," he greets his brothers as he pulls the chair out and sits down.

A moment later, the slightly heavy set Italian gentleman who owns the establishment comes bustling out with a small tray. On his tray are three hot chocolates, one regular, one prepared the way Sherlock prefers, and one prepared the way he prefers. Its one of those guilty pleasures of his that he drink hot chocolate when dealing with his brother Sherlock because otherwise there is nothing to steady the frustration he ends up feeling.

Once the owner has left he looks at each one in turn. There is something different about his middle brother though he is not certain exactly what it is. He is sure it has to do with his doctor-blogger flatmate however. As far as his youngest brother goes, well he does not see or speak with him enough to know exactly if anything is different though he does notice that his constant companion is not with him. For a few minutes the three of them sit in silence as they each sip at their hot chocolates.

Eventually the youngest of them glances his way, querying, "Still have the assistant who changes her name often?"

A small smile curves his lips as he nods once, "Indeed. Do you still have Shalen, I believe his name was, as a guard?"

The youngest of them chuckles with a small shrug, "Of course, just because you cannot see him does not mean he is not aware of where I am or who I am with. He found it amusing when my schedule was hacked and this added to it this morning."

A frown curves his lips as he considers what had just been said. Aragorn might be young but he is one of the best hackers in the world. There are not many who can out hack him. That's rather concerning for the politician who is fine with the idea of his brother being able to get past his defense, but bothered by the idea of someone else doing the same thing.

"If your worrying about this being a set up, I am fairly certain it is not." The youngest Holmes tells him before ordering

"How do you know that?" he just about demanded in his best politicians voice.

A chuckle escapes Sherlock who answers, "Because Eric is the one who did it. He's big on family and decided I needed to reconnect with my brothers. So he took the best looking time in both your schedule books and added lunch to it." Then he orders another hot chocolate.

"Eric," he repeats remembering the taller man with the unusual scales on his face, neck, and hands. He was one of the few people who intimidated him. Though he got the impression he was part of the same pack as John and thus Sherlock. He had also gotten the impression that John was at the head of that pack, but that seemed wrong, leaders were people who had authority and carried themselves as such. The short army doctor did not. Giving an internal shake of his head, he places his order with their host.

Sherlock smirks, sipping at his hot chocolate.

"So have you spent time with John's family then?" the youngest asks the middle brother as they wait for their food.

He nods once, setting his cup down, "We spend one or two evening a month with them unless there is a case going on. Actually, some of the younger cousins have asked me to teach them chemistry and deduction." There is pride in his brother's voice, even a quiet joy which surprises him greatly. His brother has never shown an interest in teaching before.

"Really? How is that working out?" Aragorn inquires politely as the waiter sets their food down in front of them, well two of them.

Again he nods before answering, "Indeed, its remarkable how well they are picking it up as well. Apparently a few of the ones working with me have decided to become detectives and think how I do it is better than the Yard, of course they are right."

Aragorn chuckles at him, shaking his head before turning his attention towards him, "So are you still trying to follow in father's footsteps?"

He can feel his skin flushing slightly as he replies, "I believe I have surpassed him for influence. However I am in our ancestral position."

Sherlock smirked and Aragorn nodded seriously.

"So do you two have lunch occasionally or is this completely out of the norm for you?" the youngest of them inquires after taking a few bites.

"I normally avoid him, however John's very family orientated and keeps pressing me to try and get along better with him." Sherlock responds after taking another sip of his hot chocolate. "Some days I even listen."

Confusion strikes him something fierce, Dr. Watson has only been in his brother's life for a few months but he is listen to with more ease than him, why? What was so special about that shifter? How could he have such an effect on his brother? The loyalty of that threat he had met, and he was quite certain he was a threat of the worst kind. He could find nothing of true importance in his military history, nearly ten years in the military yet there is next to nothing on it. At least nothing he has clearance to see, which confuses him even further. He had even tried getting in touch with their second cousin, General Avery, to see if he could come up with any information and all he returned with was that the doctor had been in one of the Special Forces units that had nearly complete black records of the hidden kind. If there was anything recorded about it, it would be highly difficult to get and he still had not been able. Nor could he understand how such an unassuming man could be in the Special Forces. It made no logical sense.

Thankfully, despite his confusion, he was able to maintain the conversation and answered almost immediately afterwards, "You know I worry about our family constantly. Even if you ignore me most the time. Though to be fair, you are not nearly as much trouble as him."

Surprisingly enough the rest of lunch goes smoothly. The three of them speak of nearly pointless things and just work on being calm around each other again. Despite the fact the last time the three of them had been together had been for their father's funeral, they manage to act as if it is a perfectly common experience for them to sit down in a restaurant and visit with each other. It ends when Shalen and Anthea come walking in together thought they are not speaking. Not far behind them is a teenage boy wearing a black suit of fine quality but watching his assistant with narrow eyes.

"Enjoy lunch?" Shalen inquires as he glances between the three.

His youngest brother smiles, as he stands he replies, "Of course, time to get back to work?"

The solid red-head nods once in response and his little brother glances at the two of them and says, "Well, brothers, its been a pleasant lunch, perhaps we can do this again sometime soon, take care," and leaves without another word.

"You have a meeting sir," Anthea tells him, her eyes never leaving her phone as she continues to type though he gets the impression she is uncomfortable about something.

"Thank you," he murmurs in response, "Good day, Sherlock."

"Ta," his middle brother replies, finishing his hot chocolate and standing to sweep out the door with the young man following close behind. When his brother gets outside, he is join by two more teenagers and the group heads towards Baker Street.

Dropping some money for a tip to the waiter, he stands and follows Anthea to the car.

The rest of the day is filled with regular meetings that he had already planned for or Anthea had scheduled in advance. When he is done with that he switches to doing paperwork, working long into the night. It is nearly four in the morning when he finally packs up and heads home. Upon getting to his flat he showers, dressing comfortably, and heads into his office to pull out the files he has one John Hamish Watson. He hates to admit it is not much but what is paints a very unusual picture.

By human standards he is a little on the short side, his build is solid, blonde hair, blue eyes, tan naturally but was darker for a time because of being in a desert. He graduated from his A-levels at seventeen, had a Bachelor's in Medicine and Surgery at nineteen, and completed his residency while going to military officers training at twenty. His first unofficial mission had happened during regular boot camp, when he and eight others had stolen a pair of helicopters and managed a rescue of several important individuals that had been thought impossible by some of the generals. When he had completed his officers training and medical residency he had went in as a second lieutenant, within six months he was a first lieutenant, within a year a captain. Then all his records vanish. He was still in, he was still being paid, however he was no longer a part of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers despite the fact that is who the records said he was with. Over the next eight years there was no official record, every single item on it was marked as classified with only two people having access, the first being Layard and the second being a General Keir that he does not know. The next time the doctor and soldier appears on the official records is when he is injured in an ambush, most the group he had been with ended up dead to snipers, though the snipers are found dead by rescue forces. Fourteen days later, two members of his team refuse to allow any medical personal near him, three days after that the entire team is gone, all of them having left the military at the same time. That was five weeks before he met Sherlock.

He had considered asking Layard if he could have access to those files but knew that he did not have a good enough excuse lined up to do so. He did not know this General Keir and something told him he really did not want to know him.

Since his brother had moved in with the doctor, his behavior had become less erratic over all. There had been a lot less mess of his to clean up. Then he had started vanishing from the camera's not just the Sherlock vanish either, but completely. His men had not been able to get near him, and all the cameras at 221B Baker Street had stopped working or been destroyed. It had been very frustrating. So he had asked Detective Inspector Lestrade about the subject and had been told to speak directly with Dr. Watson. Again the same advice was given to him by a small female perched on the edge of his desk, unseen be all but him. Then once more it was given to him by one of the most intimidating men he had ever met, which is saying something when one considers the vast variety of people he had met over the years.

His brother who had never been a very social person so to hear him clearly state that he was teaching multiple people about deduction and chemistry and vastly surprising to him.

Sitting back in his chair he rubs the back of his neck thinking. There was no other choice. He would have to speak directly to Dr. John Hamish Watson about his brother. Stretching, he heads to his room to sleep for an hour or two before beginning his day.

When he awoke, he was surprised to see that he had slept for nearly three hours. It was a Saturday, officially he did not have to be to the office unless something came up at which point his very useful assistant would tell him. However he normally spent part of his Saturday in the office making sure that he had minimum amount of back log paperwork, so after cleaning up and getting a small amount to eat, he heads into the office, choosing to drive himself in with his low riding sports car rather than call for his normal ride. He spends several hours working on paperwork before realizing that it is nearly lunch time.

Sighing, he puts everything away and grabs his phone to call Dr. Watson. He is mildly surprised when the shorter man picks up on the second ring. "Dr. Watson, I have been advised that you would be the best person to speak with about my concerns regarding my brother. Do you have plans for lunch?"

For a moment the shifter is silent before he finally replies, "Not at this point, do you have a place in mind?"

Even footing, he reminds himself, somewhere that the one with the scale pattern would not see as a threat, "I have not," he responds. Make this simple, he thinks, allow him to select something.

Again there is silence for a moment before the other man answers. "Alright, I will text you an address, see you in half hour." Before he can respond the phone goes dead and he is startled by that fact. He often does that to people, people rarely do it to him. A moment later his phone chirps and he glances at the address in shock. It is actually a fairly nice restaurant that the other man has selected.

A few minutes later he is pulling into said restaurant and is mildly surprised when a slender young man with wavy brown hair approaches him at the door, "Mr. Holmes?"

He inclines his head politely, waiting.

"I'm to show you to your table," the young man states plainly, motioning towards the seating area.

Again he inclines his head.

The young man nods once, turning on his heel and walking away, just fast enough to stay ahead, just slow enough not to be rude. Several moment later he finds himself seated at a booth with a good view of the entire room against one of the inner walls. Two menus have already been set down on the table, along with a steaming mug of hot chocolate for him and a tea for Dr. Watson. He has barely glanced at the menu when the shorter man slides into his seat.

"Good afternoon, Mycroft," the shifter greets him politely, before taking a sip of his tea.

He is startled by the shorter man's appearance, he is so used to seeing him in jumpers and jeans that the fairly nice if unusual button down and slakes in a combination of golden top and black bottoms. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me on such short notice."

"Of course," comes the soft response.

For a moment neither says anything. He is studying the man in front of him and realizing that his previous readings were wrong. This man was not just the unassuming doctor from the military. He was a great deal more.

A smile curves the blonde's lips as if he knows what he is thinking. "Actually, telepathy is not my gift, though I do have a minor ability in it. In this case I really did not need it."

He arches on eyebrow questioningly.

The shifter's smile seems to shift to amusement. "Simple really, three times you have been told to have a word with me, and three times you have not. Now you are wondering if you should have, and not a word like that first farce of a conversation we had." The shorter man shrugs, pausing for a moment when the waitress gets there to collect their orders, well his order because the doctor says nothing, just smiles. Once the waitress is gone he continues, "Now I asked Tech to make sure no one could listen in on your lunch yesterday so I do not know what was said, however since we are here, I am sure it is something that shocked you enough to finally decided to speak with me."

"I feel that we have started off on an uneven keel," he tells the shifter, "If you would be amendable, I would like to speak with you about the shifter pack that you and my brother belong to."

The two of them fall silent as the waitress brings their lunches out. For a few minutes the two of are quiet while they eat. He is considering how else to approach the subject further, finally the shorter man comments.

"I do not promise to answer everything since you are not pack, however I will answer what I can."

He nods once, continuing to eat slowly, finally he inquires, "Am I correct in thinking that you are the leader of your pack?"

The shorter man nods once before taking another bite, "Indeed."

"You have accepted my brother into the pack, why?" he inquires before taking another bite of his food.

"It was the correct thing to do. Since then, he has thrived in a way I am certain he had not previously." Comes the response from the other man as he finishes off his smaller plate.

"Why can I not track him on the CCTV any longer?" he asks, it's one of the biggest points of frustrating for him.

A smirk curves the doctor's lips as he replies, "For the same reason your men are unable to track him very well. The pack protects its own. He has a twenty four hour protection team that doesn't count when I am with him, along with Tech who is very good with computers of all types and making people do what he wants. The pack protects its own."

He nods once, finishing his lunch. "Is he safe?"

"Always, as safe as anyone can make him, the new lab means there are less accidents with the food supplies and other hazards. I am good at keeping up with him on a case, at least physically, which means I can protect him as well." the doctor replies, "I am also very good at patching him up those times when he gets himself injured somehow."

"Thank you for being willing to speak with me, could we have another discussion in the near future?" he inquires, not wishing to push his luck.

The shifter smiles, "I can arrange to have Eric give you notice any time something goes wrong or once weekly if you would like."

He inclines his head, "That would be excellent. Thank you."

With that, the shorter man smiles, standing and stating, "Don't worry about the bill, its already taken care of, good day, Mycroft." Without waiting for a response he strides away.

For a few minutes longer he lingers over his second mug of hot chocolate, not sure when it had been delivered but enjoying it just the same. It had been an enlightening lunch. He had more questions than answers but knew that pushing now was not going to get him what he wanted, so he would be patient. The reason he made such an excellent politician was his ability to know when to press forward or hold back, and how to press the right buttons. Since he was dealing with a situation he was unsure about, he would take the wise path and take his time learning further, being diplomatic.

With a shake of his head he stands, dropping some money on the table as a tip before turning to leave. He is surprised when the host who had escorted him to his table reappears to escort him out, wishing him a pleasant day and giving him more food for thought. Everything to do with Dr. John Hamish Watson caused him to consider new possibilities and details, it was frustrating, very frustrating, because now it wasn't just his brothers who challenged him, it was a short blonde too.


	53. Days of Summer

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 53  
__Greg's POV  
_He was surprised at how smooth the last the few months had been. Since Sherlock had joined the pack he had seemed a great deal calmer. He was still insulting, condescending, and arrogant but the edge that had always colored all of the taller man's actions seemed to have been dulled a bit. When Donovan and Anderson were not around he was simpler to get along with. Not getting angry as fast and a tad less insulting when he explained things. He had even been willing to take on some cases that he probably wouldn't have taken on prior to John and the pack much to his relief.

Having the option to go to two different pack meetings a month was unusual. The jackal family he had been born to only allowed full shifters to come to the pack meetings. On the rare occasions the human members related to the pack had come, they were not allowed to speak unless spoken to. So the fact that besides during announcement time everyone visited with everyone else was quite odd. Add to it, it seemed that his new pack had not only a mix of races, but also humans and children included without question. That second pack meeting he had attended had thrown him off when one of the older female wolves had brought him a plate and told him to relax, there was no need to be so formal. He hadn't really known how to respond to that. Jackals were always formal, so adjusting took some time.

When with the pack he got to see a side to Sherlock and John he never would have expected. Normally the short blonde was an easy going person, in his cuddly jumpers and jeans, he seemed like the unassuming type. Most the time he allowed Sherlock to go off on his tangents without getting excited, he took the bull folks threw his way without ever getting angry, he smiled lightly at nearly everything, giving off a cool exterior that was also very warm and approachable. However the moment you got him somewhere where he was in charge there was a subtle shift, and a core of steel seemed to appear. It seemed that every member of the pack respected him, some for his healing skills, some for his military record, and then the one group out of fear but he could see that it was slowly changing into respect from appreciation. Sherlock on the other hand does not seem to react quite so harshly with the younger members of the pack, the viciousness he is used to the genius using when speaking with people seems to be far less when dealing with most of the shifters. Though he would be the first to admit there were still some he ripped into, just not nearly as many.

On the nights of the pack meetings or when he was supposed to have dinner to discuss things with Mycroft his cases always came to a close quickly. Even the ones he thought were going to be difficult. On several occasions suspects had turned themselves in and given full confessions. Hell, there had even been a few times where the guilty had come to him to turn themselves in even before they were on his radar. While a large part of him wanted to know what was making the criminals cooperate, he was not going to question it too hard least something go wrong.

He still enjoyed his dinners with Mycroft, though in recent months they had been less about Sherlock, and more like visits between friends. However there had been several times when he had gotten home after one of their dinners and wished he would have invited the younger man in for a drink. There were times he felt intense flashes of desire for the ginger haired politician that made it hard for him to breath. The younger man had never shown any interest in him however, so he had never said anything about it. Still, there were nights when he would get back from one of their dinners and wish that he was going to bed with him, not even for sex, just to have someone there while he slept. It was very frustrating wanting something he could not have.

After that initial time of Sherlock and John showing up with three pups he had found all of the paperwork on them waiting for him on his desk. It gave Sherlock permission from someone high up in the Yard's chain of command permission to bring up to three of his students with them as long as they did not physically touch the body's of the victims. After that, there had been several of the lesser cases where he had brought the students with him. For the most part they ignored his team, and his team ignored them. The only one who tried anything was Sally and he remembers how she flinched away from some of the wolf pups, particularly Konrad and Tobe, though both seemed to be intentionally be harsh towards her. Though that tends to keep her away from Sherlock and the others, so perhaps that is why they do so.

A few days after the new moon pack meeting in October a startling thing occurred. Eric appeared at the Yard. As the tall man glided through the room he stopped twice to stare directly at different suspects, black eyes narrow for a moment before he continued to move. When one of the inspectors lost control of man hopped up on meth he was surprised at how efficiently the cobra pinned him to the wall with one hand, still completely in human form. The instance those long fingers wrapped around the mans under jaw and slammed him backwards he froze. The cobra locked eyes with him and it was nearly visible that all of the drugs in his system were being burned away. A moment later he dropped him and continued moving as if he had not just surprised every single member of the Yard.

"Eric, umm, come in," he invites the taller man into his office not sure what he wants or why he was here.

Black eyes study him in a flash and he is reminded of Sherlock when he is collecting data on a person. _You have not been sleeping well, I would suggest having Daria check you for any health concerns_. Is the first thing that he states before holding out his right hand with the flash drive. _I request that you hand this off to the elder-second's sibling at your next prearranged dinner. Since you willingly see him weekly as schedules allow I have decided it is the best course of action is to have to hand off the flash drive with the automatically updating program so he may be informed of his brother's actions._

It takes him a moment to figure out what he means, and when he does, he can feel his skin heating up. "Ummm, alright, I can do that." He agrees as he takes the flash drive and puts it in his inner coat pocket.

The cobra nods once, turning as if to leave before turning to face him again. _All of the evidence you need against Miller will be found at his sister's house in the garage, he thought himself clever committing his crimes elsewhere. Murry is guilty of more than just the one murder you have him on, if you check the area between the gas tank and the boot of the car you will find the weapon used in several of your old cases._ He pauses speaking for a moment, eyes narrowing before he continues, _Windelson is guilty of several different crimes, all of which he should be happy I am not the one to have come across him on the streets because he would not have liked the results. There is no remaining physical proof however you can force him to confess by confronting him about his ex-wife, get him riled about that and he will admit to nearly all of it. Ironically, the crime he was arrested for is not the same as the one he has committed. If you will excuse me, this place stinks. _

Nothing else is said as the tall man turns to leave only at that exact moment Sally decides she needs to ask him about something and comes barging into his office without paying attention to where she is going, running head first into the cobra who had just opened the door to step out. A low hiss escapes the cobra as his black eyes narrow dangerously on her face.

"Watch it," she snarls not looking at who she is speaking to.

He cringes, knowing what is about to follow probably will not be pretty but not planning on interrupting because he likes his skin where it is attached to himself. Besides, he is fairly certain that no one else is going to interrupt either.

"What did you say?" he hiss out, his voice nearly impossible to hear because of how low it is.

She glances up then, eyes going wide as she realizes that maybe it is not a good idea to act belligerent. Too bad she does follow through with that idea because the next thing that comes out of her mouth is as foolish as she is when dealing with Sherlock. "Who the hell are you? You shouldn't be here! You're a disgrace wearing your scales openly."

"Kneel." The cobra hisses. Nearly everyone in the Yard does so, their legs buckling under the command. Sally has it the worst however because not only do her legs buckle but she also finds herself face down on the floor unable to move. "Let me make something clear Sally Donovan. You will respect those who out rank you, you will be polite, and you will be courteous. If I ever hear of your behavior continuing the way it is right now you will find yourself having the worst day of your life. Do you understand?"

She whimpers trying to reply but unable to, instead she nods hard.

He nods once and he feels the force holding him on his knees let loose and he shakily gets to his feet to watch as the tall man exits the building. Others are slowly getting to their feet as well, though he notices that several of the criminals seem to be twitching on the floor.

Sally is the last one to get up. When she straightens she stares at him with wide eyes for a moment before mumbling, "That was…" her voice trails off as she shakes her head.

"That's Eric, upon entry into the pack I was warned never to piss him off." He states as he takes a seat at his desk. "What can I help you with?"

"Oh," she mutters before shaking her head, "I was coming to ask about the Summerfield case, has forensics gotten the results to the blood test yet?"

He shakes his head, "Not that I am aware of," he replies as he starts to write down the suggestions that the cobra given him just to discover that they were not need, every single criminal in the building had started confessing their crimes nearly as soon as the command to kneel had worn off. As he joins the other detectives in taking the confessions he cannot help but think that he had heard of the alpha gift but never seen it used before. None of the Yarders say anything about the fact they all hit their knees at the same time as they process all the new paperwork.

Two days later as he is leaving the Yard a familiar black car pulls up. With a smile he climbs in the back to see a somewhat tired looking Mycroft in the seat opposite of him.

"Good even Gregory, how are you?" the politician inquires in one of his smoothest tones.

"I'm good, tired, but good. It's been a long, surprising week," he replies, "How have you been?"

He nods once, "Moderately well, thank you," comes the posh response.

The rest of the ride goes smoothly, he is surprised when they come to his flat rather than a restaurant. As he gets out of the car he takes it to mean that they will not be having supper so he is started when Mycroft gets out as well, motioning to his door. With a small shake of his head, he heads up the walk, unlocking the door and letting them in. Upon entering the small flat he is mildly bothered by the fact it smells like someone had been cooking when he was not here. He would be more bothered however if he had been with anyone else and had that occur.

"I considered having you over, however I have noticed you feel uneasy at my flat, so I determined yours would be better." the politician answers his unspoken question.

He smiles ruefully, not saying anything as he goes to see what all is now in his kitchen. After finding baked chicken and a variety of side dishes, he digs out a pair of plates and some silverware and passes a set to the politician before getting some food and sitting on his sofa.

"Thank you, this is surprising but welcome." He tells the younger man.

A small smile curves his lips, not the fake politicians smile, but an actual smile and he realizes that he finds that smile far too attractive. "You're welcome."

The two eat in peace and quiet, when they are done he takes both of the sets of dishes to the kitchen, settling them in the sink before going to fish the flash drive out of his coat. "Eric wanted me to give this to you, it apparently has a program on it that will automatically update you on Sherlock. I am kind of surprised he didn't just install it himself because I get the impression that he does that sort of thing."

One eye brow arches questioningly as he accepts the flash drive. "I am mildly startled he did not as well, particularly since he made it a point to let me know he could."

He smirks a little, "That seems to be his style, he gives warning rather well. The other day he forced the entire Yard and the suspects there to their knees because he was annoyed with Donovan."

That eye brow that had returned to its normal placing arches again, this time giving the impression of disbelief.

"Look at the CCTV if you don't believe me," he tells the younger man as he goes to grab a beer, "You want something to drink? I'm having a beer."

"Tea, if it is convenient please," comes the politician's response.

He nods even though the other man cannot see it and gets to work making a mug of tea. When it is done, he takes it out to the living room where his guest is sitting and the two of them spend the next several hours chatting about random things. Including human politics regarding shifters, some of his cases, and nameless commentary from Mycroft on some of the situations he had to deal with. By the time Mycroft is ready to leave, it is early in the morning and he has had one to many beers he thinks. Because at that exact moment he is considering inviting the younger man to his bed, for anything he is willing to give. Instead, he swayingly walks him to the door to bid him a good day.

"Get some rest, Gregory, goodnight," the politician murmurs before opening the door.

"G'night Mycroft," he replies slurring. After the other man is gone, he leans against the now closed door and gives a small shake of his head. Slowly he pushes off and heads to bed. He is certain that in the morning he will have a bit of a headache.

He is surprised when he wakes up to find two aspirins and a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. Quickly, he downs them both before going to get cleaned up for another day at that Yard. As he is showering he reflects on the previous night and groans to himself, he is fairly certain that he had let the younger man know he found him attractive. He could only hope it would not affect their friendship, as tentative as it is.


	54. Lunch and Tea

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

This takes place during Lunch with Mycroft from John's POV for part of it.

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_Chapter 54  
__John's POV  
_He had loved his birthday surprise, the party for all the October birthday pack-members and the after party for just the two of them set up in the living room. Two days after the new moon gathering his bondmate had attend a lunch with both of his brothers. He had been shocked when the day after Mycroft had called and requested a lunch with him, even more shocking was how smoothly that lunch had gone. He had arranged for them to meet him at a shifter run restaurant.

He had showed up before Mycroft but had spent the time speaking with the restaurant owner, a wolf from Layard's pack. Once he is notified that Mycroft is being seated by one of the wolf-pup host, he thanks the younger man before making his way to his seat where he slides into his seat just as taller man sits down. Sitting on the table is a tea for him and a hot chocolate for the human.

"Good afternoon, Mycroft," he murmurs politely before taking a sip of tea.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me on such short notice," the human comments.

He can smell the human's shock as he studies him with the same ability as his brother. "Of course," he replies softly.

Smiling he remarks, "Actually, telepathy is not my gift, though I do have a minor ability in it. In this case I really did not need it." Why would he need to use telepathy when facial tells and sent give away that the human was re-evaluating everything that he had previously considered himself to know. A raised eyebrow questions him, along with scent filling further with curiosity and frustration so he answers the look, "Simple really, three times you have been told to have a word with me, and three times you have not. Now you are wondering if you should have, and not a word like that first farce of a conversation we had." The shorter man shrugs, pausing for a moment when the waitress gets there to collect their orders, well his order because the doctor says nothing, just smiles. Once the waitress is gone he continues, "Now I asked Tech to make sure no one could listen in on your lunch yesterday so I do not know what was said, however since we are here, I am sure it is something that shocked you enough to finally decide to speak with me."

For a few more moments of silence pass while he watches the thoughts flicker through the older man's eyes, while they are shuttered and mostly closed off they still had emotions that were more noticeable by scent. Finally, the taller man starts to speak, "I feel that we have started off on an uneven keel," he starts, "If you would be amendable, I would like to speak with you about the shifter pack that you and my brother belong to."

After the query, the human falls silent and he decides to wait until their food is delivered before answering. Since he can smell the waitress who had taken their orders coming their way with food, he holds off. Once the wolf female who is serving delivers their food, he thanks her silently and the two take a few moments to eat before he decides to speak.

"I do not promise to answer everything since you are not pack, however I will answer what I can."

The human nods once, continuing to eat, his scent full of curiosity as he decides what to ask. "Am I correct in thinking that you are the leader of your pack?"

He continues to eat, but nods once, "Indeed."

Pleasure fills the humans scent at the idea he was correct before it returns to its previous curiosity, "You have accepted my brother into the pack, why?"

He gives a minor shrug, before replying, "It was the correct thing to do. Since then, he has thrived in a way I am certain he had not previously." He had determined already that Sherlock had not been well appreciated by his family because he lacked the social ability that went with being part of a political family.

Again the taller man's changes to satisfaction before returning to curiosity with undertones of frustration, "Why can I not track him on the CCTV any longer?"

He smiles, almost smirking as he considers the fact Elspeth tends to trip everyone who is following his bondmate that does not belong to the pack. When it is one of the others, they also tend to make it impossible for the humans to follow him. Maria who lacks strong gifts in many areas has a remarkable ability to use illusions. Cyanne is good at getting humans to do her bidding by looking all small and adorable, also good at tying shoe laces and such to trip folks out of her way. "For the same reason your men are unable to track him very well. The pack protects its own. He has a twenty four hour protection team that doesn't count when I am with him, along with Tech who is very good with computers of all types and making people do what he wants. The pack protects its own."

The tall human nods once, finishing his meal before questioning, "Is he safe?"

"Always, as safe as anyone can make him, the new lab means there are less accidents with the food supplies and other hazards. I am good at keeping up with him on a case, at least physically, which means I can protect him as well." he replies as considers the facts of there lives, "I am also very good at patching him up those times when he gets himself injured somehow."

The human's scent becomes less questioning, and more resigned as he comments, "Thank you for being willing to speak with me, could we have another discussion in the near future?"

"I can arrange to have Eric give you notice any time something goes wrong or once weekly if you would like." He suggests with a small smile, he can understand wishing to keep track of a family member. With Eric watching everything within the pack, and all those who dealt with the pack, it would be simple for him to do a report on Sherlock, nothing reveling, just a general health report, but it should make the human back off a bit.

The humans face is blank but his scent is thankful as he inclines his head and states, "That would be excellent. Thank you."

With a smile, he stands stating, "Don't worry about the bill, its already taken care of, good day, Mycroft." As soon as he is done speak he is gone, striding out the building with a mental goodbye to the owner and his staff.

He is on his way back to the flat when his phone chirps with an American number. "Hello?" he quires, mildly shocked someone got through, very few people can call without Eric being aware so that means he must trust whoever it is.

"Elite Elder Watson," the voice greets him, "I was curious if you have time for coffee? It's Aiden Jefferson, Eric's son."

"Ah, hello Aiden, good to hear from you, umm yes, I could met you for tea where would you like to meet at?" he answers the cobra, understanding how he got through, of course he would trust his son.

"Well there is a coffee shop not far from Eric's house, do you know the one?" the younger man queries.

He thinks about it a moment before replying, "I know the one, I can be there in half hour."

"Alright, thank you," he can hear the relief in the younger man's voice. A moment later the line goes dead.

Tucking his phone into his pocket, he finds a quiet corner to that is unseen, shields and shifts before heading towards the neighborhood that Eric has his home in. About two blocks from Eric's house he stops in a dark alley and shifts back into his human form, un-shielding and striding into the coffee shop that he had shifted by. Glancing around, he spots the tall cobra over near the corner, when he turns towards, the younger man stands smiling at him.

_Elite Elder Watson, thank you for taking the time to meet me, _the cobra greets him.

"Hello Aiden, call me John," he greets the taller young man.

"Hello John," he replies, nodding once before motioning to the table he had been seated at.

He smiles at the younger man, taking a seat closer to the window while the cobra sits back down with his back to the wall. His scent is mild, no major emotions ruling them. "What can I do for you?" he queries as the waitress comes over.

Both order their respective drinks before the taller man speaks, "I would like to formally request a change of dens. I am moving here and would appreciate it if you would consider my entry into the Watson den, sorry, Watson pack."

For a moment he studies the slender young man, considering everything he knows about him before inquiring, "Why have you decided to move here and change packs?"

He smiles, answering, "I'm the only cobra in a den that hates cobras, I wish to be out from under my matriarchal thumb, and I'd like a chance to get to know Eric better which will not happen if I stay in my birth den."

He thinks about it for a few minutes, he can smell the sincerity in his scent, hear it in his voice, his rarely used thera abilities can feel it in his being. Nodding once he asks, "Do you plan to fully change dens or be connected to both?"

"Complete change of dens, I do not wish to belong to a den that actively despises me. Eric has a great deal of respect and loyalty to you, something I know he gives to next to no one, thus you are respectable and worth the loyalty." The younger man pauses for a moment before continuing, "I would appreciate it if you would consider my request."

The two fall silent as the waitress delivers their drinks. Once she has left, he takes a few sips of the tea, thinking that it is still good, as he considers his answer. This could cause problems between his pack and the coral snake den that he is from, however he doubts it since there is not an elite in the den, and snakes have always been well aware of where they fall on the racial listings. What he knows about Aiden besides the fact he is Eric's son is he is a straight A student, excellent with computers, a skilled fighter, able to mimic and hide with the same skill as his father, a very minor healing gift, telepathy, and a minor ability to See.

Unfastening his left wrist on his shirt, he offers his arm to the younger man with a smile, "Welcome to the Watson Pack," he murmurs.

The cobra smiles back, unfastening his left hand again shirt and the two grasp wrists, a tingle of power going from him to the younger shifter as he is accepted into the pack.

"Thank you, Elder," he remarks afterward.

"Well we have pack meetings on the full and new moon. You already know who all is at the top of the pack. Do you have somewhere you plan to stay? Any other plans?" he asks the younger shifter.

His scent is content as he answers, "Eric is already aware that I am coming for a visit, I am fairly certain that he is aware that I am planning on moving here, because while I have not told him, he tends to know everything. I wish to go to university, though I have not decided which one to go to yet. I will be doing something with computers, and possibly medicine but have not fully decided. I want to get my own flat, but not sure I actually want to live on my own since like most snakes I like company." He pauses, shrugging, "I also wish to get to know the others of den."

For the next hour or so they chat until he gets a text from his bondmate inquiring when he is going to be home. At that point, he smiles at the cobra, offering to walk with him to the other cobra's home before heading home himself. At Eric's house he has a quick word with the older cobra, sharing his memories of the last several hours, and the older cobra agrees to his offer to Mycroft. When he is done speaking with the older cobra, he shields before he leaves and shifts as soon as he is outside to sprint on his way home.


	55. December 2010

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* * *

_Chapter 55  
__John's POV  
_The next several weeks go smoothly. Aunt Sandra takes over the birthday celebrations, but continues with his bondmates idea of getting gifts for all of the birthdays, not just the children. With her taking over that part of the new moon gathering she had found herself speaking with more of the pack than she had in years. It was a good thing, pulling her out of the depression she had fallen into after granddame's death. The military pack and some of the other members who had joined since his return to London were being further integrated together so it was not as obvious that it was two packs combined. Even the Devon pack was beginning to warm up to the rest of the pack. Though there was a lot of nervousness when any member of the Devon part of the pack comes in contract with Eric, Trace, Damian, Hyder, Scott, Daria, and Jace.

On December fifth everyone gathers for the new moon gathering at the Watson pack home. After the birthday celebrations the adults gather to have the normal meet and greet, though some of the mothers cannot help but stare at the yard and the scene unfolding within it.

Eric is in his half-half form. Instead of legs he has a long black tail that he has curved and somewhat flattened. Several of the smaller children are using him as a playground, their small bodies scampering around him. Some of the children are sliding down his tail, others are climbing all over another part of his tall that he has used for them to jump over. Two of the pups are alternating between human and wolf form, hopping over his tail before losing their concentration and shifting back into human form.

"Oh my, is that quite safe?" one of the wolf mothers who is not really familiar with the cobra inquires.

Before he has a chance to answer Melisa remarks, "Safest place in the world is with that cobra, I remember when I first meet him, scared the living hell out of me, but according to our alpha he loves children, and I saw him get hit by a car to keep a little one from being hit. John was not thrilled with having to patch him up again."

"Really? When did you meet him?" the wolf asks, glancing between the wolf-child and the cobra.

"Iota Symone's funeral, the cobra had come with John to ensure that everything went safely because it was during that two year period where hunters kept cropping up." the dark haired woman replies.

For a moment the mother wolf thinks about it before her eyes go wide, "The tall man in black. The one no one seemed to know who stayed close to the alpha family without being right next to them. I remember seeing him. I hadn't realized it was him."

He smiles remarking, "That was his point. He's rather protective of people he feels loyalty to."

"Oh," the wolf mother murmurs as she continues to watch.

Laying a hand on her shoulder, he mutters, "Shalia, stop worrying."

She nods, smiling at him before going to rejoin some of the other wolf mothers who are discussing what their holiday plans are.

Almost as soon as she vanishes from his side, Aidan appears next to him, _I had not realized he likes children so much. I have very few memories of him when I was young._

_That's because your dame was a bitch who would not allow him near you three during his grief. Had she had the choice, he never would have seen any of you. As it is, he has lost one daughter to that bitch. The second is an uncertainty at this point, and you had to give up your birth pack in order to get to know him. _He replies to the young cobra as he continues to observe the older cobra.

Sighing, the younger man responds, _Shuri is a big part of why I left, I could handle most of them hating me, but it was painful that my sister did as well. Zara is mildly afraid of me, but she does not hate. _He pauses for a moment smiling as he watches him lift little Maria and toss her in the air before catching her. _Zara is actually planning to come visit me once I get my own place. She is terrified of him._

_Not surprising, though I hope she will get a chance to see him like this. Hard to feel pure terror when watching him with pups, _he states as he turns from the scene to go join Sherlock over with the older pups.

The cobra nods, continuing to watch the other one with a thoughtful look on his face.

The rest of the pack gathering goes smoothly and at the end of the night he is not surprised when the older cobra raises an eyebrow at him, sarcastically remarking in his mind, _You realize that I could hear the conversation you were having with both of them?_

He smirks at the tall man, answering, "Of course, it's not like I was trying to hide it."

The cobra chuckles, giving a shake of his head before heading over to his low riding sports car that Aidan is already in.

He shifts and gives his bondmate a ride back to their flat where they spend the rest of the evening enjoying themselves and each other.

Several more days pass in a flurry, three minor cases occurring between when the new moon meeting took place and the December pack meeting. All three had been solved within several hours of Greg calling them. On two of the cases he had the pups with him and worked them with the pups, encouraging them to do most the deductions. Of all the pups working with him, Tobe seems to be the one to catch on the quickest. There had also been one more run in with Donovan though she had flinched away nearly as soon as Konrad had turned his icy blue eyes on her.

The first part of the December pack meeting had gone smoothly. Now he was preparing for the second half. While he had not held any of the other Sacred Days, this one happened to fall on pack meeting as well. Thankfully, he had learned all of the old ceremonies from his granddame when he was going though his training, because it was not something his uncle had ever covered or held.

Now as he stands within the old grove at the furthest point on the property he waits patiently, thinking. When he had first decided to hold the Calling, he had approached Eric about it, knowing that the cobra held all of the Old Ways, including the days that humans also saw as important but for a different sort of reasons. They had covered it extensively, then he had asked Sherlock if he wished to participate, mildly surprised when his human mate who disbelieve all forms of religion agreed. So the cobra had explained it all, for while he was the only one to speak during it, he felt it was best to let him know a head of time what it was he would happen.

As everyone gathers, he stands dead center between the two oldest oaks. To his left is his bondmate, to his right is the elder cobra, past that they all fanned out in a circle around the ring of trees.

At midnight he tilts his head back and looks at the sky before beginning to speak, "Verhaiya, Shadows Mistress, Ancient Goddess. Emberan, Dawn Son, Elder God. Iyora, Dusk Daughter, Elder Goddess. On this night of dawn and dusk we call you forth from you're slumber."

Above them the sky flared, an aura of colors and lights flared to life, reds and blues, greens and oranges, purples and yellows, all mixing in an unending swirl. Within those colors it seems that there is are forms of three in the shape of a triangle.

"As the new year approaches we beseech you, grant our Pack peace, understanding, and truth. Dusk Daughter withdraw, allow autumn and winter to fade. Dawn Son return, allow spring and summer to bloom."

Again he stops to look up at the sky as the dark colors flare and begin to fade to be replaced by the bright ones.

"Dusk Daughter to Dawn Son, winter to spring, we thank you," he finishes.

Many of the older members and nearly all of the military members repeat the last line, "Dusk Daughter to Dawn Son, winter to spring, we thank you."

One last time all of the sky lights up, vibrant colors flaring around, slowly it seems as if the colors drift to the ground, touching each person before vanishing into the night. The sky darkening to its normal coloring for a December night. For a long time after the colors fade, silence fills the air.

Then, surprisingly enough it is Jace who comments, "Amazing, simply amazing."

After that the silence is broken because many of the pups and younger shifters start to babble about the sky. They had never seen anything like it. For the longest time everyone chattered away before the meeting slowly broke up as they realized how late it was. Eventually they too left, though it was nearly four am before they got home. One shared quick shower later the two of them were collapsing into bed together.

The following day goes in a flurry as he prepares the flat for the small gathering they hosting that night. They go out for a walk when he is done, just to spend time together. While they are on the walk he is notified by Eric that a female had snuck in through their bedroom window and left after leaving a small gift in the house. Curious, the cobra inquires if he would like it checked out but he is fairly sure he knows who that is so he suggest he does not. It is a short while later when they get home and he smells the familiar scent of the human-child Irene. Ignoring it, he sets about warming the cider because their guests should be there shortly. His bondmate starts to play his violin, shifting between a collection of Christmas carols.

Not long after six their guests start to arrive, beginning with their landlady Mrs. Hudson, followed closely by Greg, then Molly. Mrs. Hudson takes his bondmates seat, while Greg leans against the wall, just as his mate finished up We Wish You a Merry Christmas, Molly arrives according to the scent coming up the stairs.

"Lovely! Sherlock, that was lovely!" the older human female exclaims happily, waving her hand by her head as she continues speaking, "I wish you could have worn the antlers!"

With a mildly sarcastic smile, he twists around a bit as he replies, "Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs. Hudson."

"Marvelous," he murmurs with a smile to his mate as he hands their landlady a tea cup, "Mrs. H."

Moments later the pathologist comes walking in with two bags with gifts in them in her grasp, "Hello, everyone. Sorry, hello."

"Oh dear Lord," he hears his mate mutter at the same time.

_Be nice, she is a friend._ He tells the human, not sure he is going to be listened to. His mate was not all that fond of the holiday season despite the fact he knew all of the songs and most of the traditions.

_If I must._ He replies sarcastically, _do I get a prize at the end of the night if I am?_

"Er, it said on the door just to come up." she nervously stutters as she stares openly at his bondmate.

He glances over at his mate smiling mischievously even as he joins Greg and Mrs. Hudson in greeting Molly._ I am sure I can make it worth both of our time._

Despite the attraction that the human female felt for his mate, he did not fret about it because his mate was not attracted to her, sometimes he barely realized she was a person. So he had taken the time to befriend her and if sometimes her scent annoyed him, he merely reminded himself that she was human and didn't know that he was already claimed.

Rolling his eyes his mate mutters, "Oh, everybody's saying hullo to each other. How wonderful."

Smiling nervously towards his mate, the human female begins to unfasten her over coat at which point he offers, "Let me," he begins before pausing, slightly startled if she was a wolf blood female and he wasn't bonded he would have been attracted to her with the fine outfit she had dug out, "holy Mary!"

Almost instantly he feels the jealousy coming through his bondlink with Sherlock.

"Wow!" the jackal-child appreciates as his eyes rake over the human female.

Still nervous smelling and sounding she queries, "Having a Christmas drinkies, then?" as she rubs her hands together before adjusting her dress straps a bit.

A bit monotone his mate replies, "No stopping them, apparently," as he sits down at the table to and starts typing. His scent is still full of jealousy though he is trying to mask it by playing with the computer instead and focusing on other things.

"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me, so it's almost worth it." Mrs. Hudson exclaims as he grabs a chair for the younger human to sit in.

"Have a seat," he offers her just as his mate calls him over to the laptop.

"John?" the his tall human comments.

Turning to face him, he replies, "Hmmmm?" Behind him he can hear the jackal-child offering Molly a drink and her accepting.

As he leans over to look at the screen his dark-haired human continues, "The counter on your blog: still says one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five."

Acting mock annoyed he comments, "Ooh, no! Christmas is cancelled!" setting his hand down heavily on the desk.

His mate rolls his eyes at him but continues to look over the blog as he goes and sits in his chair, while the auburn-haired human turns to their landlady inquiring, "How's the hip?"

"Ooh, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking." The older human responds.

Smiling sympathetically, the younger human remarks, "I've seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems." Silence falls over the room as the jackal-child brings her a drink and their landlady stares at her open-mouthed for a moment, she immediately begins to apologize, "Oh, God, sorry." Her hands flutter nervously.

"Don't make jokes Molly," his bondmate remarks without looking away from the laptop.

She flickers a look at him before apologizing again and turning to accept the drink that the jackal-child has poured her. While accepting it she murmurs, "Thank you. I wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas."

"That's first thing in the morning. I'm seeing the girls. It's all sorted." The silver-haired detective inspector replies.

From his spot his bondmate remarks, "Good thing too, she's sleeping with a P.E. teacher."

A tight smile pulls at the older shifter-child's face as he glances down in response. Since both men had joined the pack they had gotten along a lot better but there were still times that his mate said cutting things.

Turning to him, the auburn-haired female quires, "John, I hear you're off to your sister's, is that right?"

He nods once, answering "Yeah."

"Sherlock was complaining," she continues with a look towards Sherlock who gives her a look so she corrects herself, "saying."

He raises his bottle of beer a bit continuing to answer her when she is done speaking, "Going to meet her new wife, first Christmas we have spent together in years."

His mate snorts, as he tells him to shut it but continues to speak anyways as the taller human looks at her, "I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him." While his mate is smiling, it is a sardonic one and his scent is still full of annoyance and a touch of jealousy.

"Sorry, what?" she blinks at him confused, eyes going wide and scent going worried.

"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift." His mate continues.

"Take a day off," he murmurs aloud, telepathically he states, _Sherlock stop. Your getting into the A Bit Not Good area._

"Shut up and have a drink," Greg tells him as he sets a glass down next to him.

His mat flickers a glance at him but ignores him as he continues anyways, "Oh, come on. Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best." His bondmate stands, glancing at the gifts before stalking towards the nervous female, "It's for someone special then." Without asking, his mate picks it up and studies it as he continues to speak, "The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has luve on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all."

_Stop now! H_e snaps at his bondmate as he glances over at the obviously distressed auburn-haired female as she starts to dance in place.

Only his mate ignores him and continues to babble, "That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing. Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts..." his voice trails off as he reads the tag. Eyes going wide as he swallows back whatever else he was going to say.

The scent of sadness fills the air as Molly gasps, trying not to cry, her voice is just about broken as she remarks, "You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always."

His mate turns to walk away but stops, looking back at her and sincerely apologizing, "I am sorry. Forgive me." _John, how did I miss it? _he asks telepathically as he steps closer to the smaller human, softly continuing aloud, "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," to the shock of all in the room he gently kisses her cheek.

Her eyes go wide as she stares at him, the sadness retreating from her scent.

All the guests gasp in shock when his mates phone goes off, the text alert from the dominatrix. His mate steps back as he fishes in his pocket for his phone while Molly quickly tries to stutters that it was not her. Dismissively, his mate agrees it was not and looks at his phone before turning to mantelpiece and grabbing the small red package there. He is aware that it is from the dominatrix but had said nothing about it.

"'Scuse me," his bondmate mutters as he walks to the other room.

"What, what's up, Sherlock?" he queries, fairly certain he knows what's going on. He knew that the cobra had been tracking the human dominatrix, finding it amusing to watch as she interacted with the annoyance as he called Jim Moriarty. If she had sent Sherlock her phone, she either thought she was about to die or had decided to go into hiding.

"I said excuse me," his mate snaps in response as he walks into through the kitchen and into his room.

"Do you ever reply?" he quires aloud, telepathically he inquiries, _Is it her phone?_

_How did you? _He begins but then states, _Eric. _

_Indeed. You know how easily he gets bored. Do you want me to tell everyone to have a good night?_ he queries of his bondmate. If his mate had been showing jealousy towards Molly, he had felt it towards Irene since she was the only human that his mate seemed to find interesting or even slightly appealing.

_If you would please. _His mate replies before he hears him calling his brother.

Politely he bids everyone a goodnight, much to the confusion of Mrs. Hudson and Molly, to Greg he explains through the pack link that there is about to be a case for them to deal with and the detective inspector nods in understanding.

A few minutes later he walks to the bedroom, leaning on the door and querying, "Are you okay?"

His mate gives him a mildly confused look, as he answers shortly, "Yes," he can tell that the taller man wants to shut the door in his face but he does not, instead he paces the room for a few minutes, eyes narrow as he thinks. "I don't understand, why am I bothered by the idea of Irene Adler being killed?"

He gives a small shrug, replying, "Because she is a challenge and there are not many who have challenged you I bet. Do you want me to go with you when you identify her? After all, scent never lies."

For a moment the taller man thinks about it before he nods once, answering, "I would, though can you shield? That way if it is not her, I will not know until we get home and whatever reaction that is expected of me will be genuine?"

Smiling slightly, he nods before walking over to the taller man and hugging him.

Just a little over an hour passes in silence before a his mate receives a phone call from his brother asking that he meet him at Bart's. Several moments after that the two of them are off, racing through the streets using his wolf form to get there quicker because he did not wish to disturb one of the crows during Christmas for a cab. When they get there, he stops in a darkened side ally, allowing his mate off and shifting before shielding himself invisible. The two of them approach the door he makes sure to stay in his mates tracks even as he steps lightly to leave no real impression on the slightly snowy ground. Just inside the door awaits Mycroft and the two brothers silently make their way to the morgue.

He feels his mate tense up a bit when he spots Molly standing just beside the table with the body lying in front of her with a sheet over top.

His brother is speaking as they approach, "The only one that fitted the description. Had her brought here – your home from home."

Sherlock ignores him to comment to the auburn-haired female he had been mean to earlier, "You didn't need to come in, Molly."

She answers a bit quickly, sadness in her scent as she states, "That's okay. Everyone else was busy with Christmas." She had hesitated before saying Christmas. Glancing down, she motions towards where the head is, commenting, "The face is a bit, sort of, bashed up, so it might be a bit difficult." Without saying anything else, she pulls down the sheet showing her upper torso only.

"That's her isn't it?" the elder brother inquires.

Narrowing his eyes, his mate just about demands, "Show me the rest of her."

Slowly, the auburn-haired female does as directed, her scent confused when his mate confirms that is her and walks away. He steps a bit closer, sniffing the air silently, while this female is of the right build and coloring, scent says it is not her. However he listens as Mycroft thanks her and Molly questions how he could now. A moment later the older brother rejoins his mate and the two begin to speak after Mycroft gives his mate a cigarette and they banter about it for a moment.

"How did you know she was dead?" the elder brother inquires as he continues to watch.

Staring out the window his mate replies, "She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up."

Curiously, the taller of the two queries, "Where is this item now?"

The scent of sadness fills the air, as he glances towards the main doors he spots a family weeping together. The brothers had also looked at which point his bondmate asks, "Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?"

With a tone of knowing he answers, "All lives end. All hearts are broken." He pauses for a moment as he glances at his brother, "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock."

Sarcastically, his mate remarks, "This is low tar."

Just as sarcastically the ginger-haired man remarks, "Well, you barely knew her."

_Leave first, you know he will call you shortly,_ his mate tells him before he remarks aloud, "Huh!"

Silently, he leaves the hall, carefully going through the door so it barely moves and thanking his years doing special ops that require that kind of control. He has barely gotten to where they had agreed to meet up when his phone goes off, "He's on his way," the slightly older man remarks to him, worry evident in his voice. "Have you found anything?"

Frowning he replies, "No, did he take the cigarette?"

"Yes." the elder brother response, worry thickening his tone though he is certain he would not realize it.

"Shit." He replies, knowing it is the expected response, he had already discussed his worries with his mate, and knew that he would not do anything to harm himself but they still had not told his brother of their relationship and so he could not reassure the human. "Are you sure tonight is a danger night?" he inquires, curious to see what his answer will be.

"No, but then I never am. You have to stay with him, John." Comes the slightly stiff reply as if he realizes how much emotion he is showing.

"I've got plans." He replies thinking, with your brother of course, but that's not something you really need to know right now.

"No." the politician responds hanging up on him.

A few moments later his bondmate comes around the corner, lost in thought. "Was it her?" he queries without greeting.

"No, wrong scent to be her." he replies before shifting into his wolf form. _**Shall we go home or would you like to run for a bit?**_

_Can we? I think I would enjoy the feeling._ His mate response still lost in thought.

He dips his large head, lowering himself just a bit so his bondmate can climb on his back. As soon as he is situation, he shields and their off, racing through the city and out into the countryside where he can unshield and run even faster. Once he drops the shields he tells his bondmate, _**You realize that you do feel, just because it is not the same as everyone else does not make it any less real. **_

_I know, it just seems_, his mate pauses for a moment as if trying to figure out what he wants to say, _that I do not feel things right._

_**Of course you do, no two people feel things the exact same way, Sherlock. Your perfect as is.**_ he replies to his mate as they continue to run.

_Thank you John, _his mate replies leaning his body as close as he can to his back. He takes it as a sign to go home and the two of them do so, when they get home they spend the rest of evening curled in bed together doing nothing more than cuddling.


	56. First Christmas

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

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_Chapter 56  
__Sherlock's POV  
_He awakens slowly, his body comfortably curled with that of his John's. In slumber his lover looks younger, like he is in his early twenties and had not just turned thirty a few months prior. As he studies him, he decides that something in the universe must at least sort of like him for him to have found someone who accepted him so completely. His John rarely tried to change him, and even on the things that he did, it was not out of control or cruelty but an understanding that he did not always understand how to speak with other people.

Last night when he had received Irene's phone, he had felt conflicted, that phone was her life. She saved everything on it for her protection. Yes he had Eric give a copy of it to Mycroft so he could see what information she had, and he was certain his brother was careful about how he used it to not give away his hand. Then as he had stared at the body of a woman with the exact same measurements as Irene he had been certain that it was her and that filled him with a sort of sadness that he had a hard time comprehending. When his brother had offered him a smoke he had accepted it as his mind tried to understand how such a careful woman could end up the way she was. His brother's attempt at comfort had not been very comforting, even if it would have been at one point.

Perhaps he should tell Mycroft about his relationship with John but he really did not want his annoying sibling trying to interfere. He loved the fact that at home, here where it was just them, he could be himself without any sort of shield and his John merely accepted it, even encouraged it. The fact that the pack accepted him as well was unbelievable at times. He had always been the outcast because of his intelligence and lack of social grace yet for reasons he did not understand nearly everyone in the pack appreciated it rather than being bothered by it. Hell, he wasn't even the smartest one around anymore, they all feared the smartest but not for his intelligence.

His life had changed drastically the day he met John, but it was all changes for the better. Things he had never hoped would occurred. He now had a family that actually gave a damn about him. One he wasn't in competition with the other members of. All of it was so surreal at times he was afraid to say anything for fear of ruining it.

Stretching a little bit, his longer limbs slipped out of the comfortable cradle of his wolf's body. It was Christmas, and while he did not feel any special feelings towards it, he knew his wolf did. Slipping out of bed, he heads out into the kitchen and looks around for a minute before settling on making pancakes, those have to be simple enough for him to make. Grabbing the laptop he quickly looks up a recipe for them before getting to work. He is just finishing up as John comes out into the kitchen.

"Morning, if you want to sit down I am almost done with breakfast." He informs the shorter man as he flips them one last time to make sure that they are properly golden.

Smiling to himself, he settles them on one of the plates before setting them on the table. Rather than get a plate for himself, he knows that he will just snitch a couple of pieces off of John's because he rarely eats enough to justify having his own plate though he had gotten better at it in recent months. However they were going to the Watson family property for a family Christmas dinner which meant he needed to have room for dinner. He likes Aunt Sandra's food as much as he likes John's.

As he goes to sit down, his wolf leans over and kisses him deeply before sitting back and querying, "Good morning, love, how are you feeling?"

A little breathless, he smiles as he replies, "Better, actually, thank you for the run last night."

His lover smiles as he butters and pours the syrup on the pancakes. Over to the side he puts extra syrup so that he can dip it since John knows he likes more syrup than him. He grins at this action, knowing that it was his acceptance of him taking his from the shorter man's plate. The next several minutes are silent as the two eat the pancakes, with him snitching a bite here and there, dipping them in the syrup and John occasionally feeding him a bite after dipping it as well.

When they are done, his John cleans up while he goes and takes a shower. Afterwards he returns to the living room to find John checking on his blog. "Sherlock, love, what was the counter on last night?"

"One-thousand eight hundred and ninety five, why?" he inquires as he walks into the living room.

Shrugging, he lover shuts down the computer before settling on the sofa and patting the spot next to him. "Would you like to discuss it?"

For a moment he paces the room, shutting the door to the outside hall and locking it so that Mrs. Hudson will not come in. Again he starts to pace, long legs allowing him to cross from one side of the room to the other quickly. Several silent minutes pass as he does this. Its Christmas, they are supposed to be focusing on family, and yet John is giving him time to process the confusion of the night before and express anything he has on his mind.

"Why would she send me the phone? Why would she pretend to be dead? Why does this feel like there is more to it and I am missing it?" he stops, turning to look at his mate inquiring, "Didn't Eric break the code on her phone?"

When he finally stops pacing and settles onto the sofa next to his John, the shorter man pulls him close, so that his longer body is pressed against him, before beginning to speak. "You are a challenge to her I think. Considering everything that has gone on in recent months, I would not be surprised if there was a larger plot, we never did catch Moriarty so perhaps it has something to do with him, and yes Eric broke the code on her phone. Scent gives away a lot of thing among our kind." His lover's shorter fingers start carding through his hair soothing him.

Closing his eyes he listens to his John's voice, carefully considering everything that is being said and all of the facts that he knows. There is more to this than he knows and until he can get the information it would be best for him not to fret about it. Perhaps he should have his homeless network look into the people for him. They were good at discovering information.

"Thank you," he murmurs eventually, "for not telling me I am foolish or anything else like that."

His John kisses the top of his head, smiling at him, "Of course love, I understand," he pauses, kissing the top of his head one more time before querying, "So would you like to open presents now?"

He twists around kissing John soft on the lips, his fingers slipping up his chest and neck to sink into the short blonde hair at the base of his skull. Shifting his positioning a little bit more, he is just about sitting on his lover's lap as John's arms come up around him. When they finally break apart both are breathing heavy and he can feel his John's erection against his ass while his own sleeping pants seem uncomfortably tight.

"Presents later John, right now I have the most important one in my arms." He mumbles against his lips as his nimble fingers set to disrobing his wolf. Time flies from there with each taking their turn at disrobing the other. From there they end up in the bedroom with him straddling John's hips as his wolf slowly rotates his hips against him, buried deep within him. Several more minutes pass while the two of them slowly make love. When he feels close to the edge, he pushes down hard against his mate's hips. John reaches up with his left hand, grasping his right, their wrists connecting and the surge of love and affection he feels through the link sends both of them over the edge.

Gasping, he arches hard against his love as he comes all over his chest and John comes deep within him. Suddenly tired, he allows himself to slide off of John and curl up beside him. All energy suddenly gone. Chuckling, his lover wiggles out from beside him, heading into the bathroom to collect a wet washrag he returns a few moments later to clean them up before tossing it to the side and curling beside him to drift off to sleep again.

When he awakens the second time he knows that only a little bit of time has passed, his nap had been fairly short. Smiling to himself he goes to get up only to find John pinning him down, smiling at him with a clearly mischievous look on his face. "So, shower than presents?"

He smiles back, just as mischievous, before rolling them so he has John pinned even though he is fairly certain that the smaller man could easily break his hold. "Why are you so stuck on presents?"

"Because it's our first Christmas together and I am excited to see what you think of your gift." The shorter man replies.

He nods once, though his smile falters a little as he considers the two gifts he had gotten for the shifter. He had never bought Christmas gifts before so he was unsure how well he had selected the gifts. Giving a small shake of his head, he rolls off of his lover, and heads to the bathroom knowing that the wolf will follow him shortly. Sure enough the water is barely heated when John climbs in next to him, grabbing the clean washrag and carefully running it over his body, taking his time in cleaning him. When he is done doing that the shorter man grabs his shampoo and reaches up to start lathering his curls, dipping his head down, he makes it easier for him to do so, waiting for him to get every inch of his scalp before straightening to rinse it out. While he is rinsing, John proceeds to washing himself.

A few minutes later the two of them are seated on the floor in the living room with the small pile of presents situated between them. John passes him one of his before grabbing one for himself then watches him with a small smile. He knows the shorter man is waiting for him, so he glances at the tag, realizing that it is the gift from Molly before he opens it carefully. His eyes widen slightly at the gift, it is a set new nice glass slides for his microscope with a small card wishing him a Merry Christmas.

Over the next several minutes they take turns opening their gifts.

From Greg he had gotten a pair of official police hand cuffs with keys with a note saying so he would not need to steel his any further. Mrs. Hudson had gotten him a scarf of dark red cashmere that matches the single button hole on his Belstaff that is mismatched from the rest of them. Aunt Sandra had gotten him a nice set of journals with a small note to enjoy recording his discoveries. The surprising one is from Eric who had given him a flash drive that when he plugs it into his laptop opens to a set of encrypted files with the memo that he will have to figure out the code to get into them, enjoy the puzzle.

Smiling happily John goes through his gifts including the bottle of decent (but not great) scotch from Greg. His sister had gotten him a pair of silk red pants and undershirt, with the card telling him to enjoy. His Aunt had made him a cook book full of old recipes. Eric's gift is of the practical kind, several boxes of bullets to go with his hand gun. Mrs. Hudson had gotten him a dark brown scarf to match his leather coat and leather gloves. Molly had given him a golden-brown jumper. Daria and Jace had put a scrapbook together for him that includes Christmas cards and wishes from the rest of the pack along with pictures.

Finally he got to the two gifts he had purchased him, and he just about dances in his spot in nervousness. The first gift is simple, a new traveling note pad with a case and pen, the case being dark leather and the pen silver but both having John's initials on them. The second gift is the one he is unsure of. He had not known what to get John so he had thought about it carefully before deciding to make him a coupon book. He knew that there were times he was hard to deal with, so he had made a small book with three-hundred and sixty-five coupons, one per day though he had not made each one different. Some of them were cleaning related, some of them were Work related, others were treatment of others related, and some was about their relationship. Biting his lip he watches to see what John thinks and is relieved when John leans across to kiss him long and hard before pulling back leaving them both breathless.

"Thank you, they're both perfect." His wolf tells him before pulling a small box out and handing it to him. "I was not sure what to get you but I decided on this."

It ends up being the gift he loves the most. It is nothing fancy, but it is the fact that he had thought of it that makes him smile, it's a picture of the two of them, though he has no idea when it was taken, it is from here within the flat but that's not the surprising part. The surprising part is the fact it is with the two of them curled together on the sofa, his longer body stretched out along it so the only part he is not taking up is where John is, instead his head is resting on his lover's lap while John cards his fingers through his hair. It's the look on their faces that catches his attention the most however, his is relaxed and happy, content even, and John's is so deeply loving. On the edge of the silver frame their bondmark is etched into the metal with the words 'Anima, Quaerunt in Aeternum' across the bottom of it.

"John," he murmurs surprised, his eyes wide as he looks up at the shorter man, the picture clasped firmly against his chest.

His wolf just smiles, hesitantly asking, "You like it?"

He nods staring at it for a long while before kissing him again.

They are interrupted by the phone going off and he groans as his wolf pulls back to look at it. "It's the alarm to remind me to dress for dinner."

Sighing, he sets his presents aside before rising to his feet. He always avoided his family dinners but had agreed to go with John to his because he actually likes the wolves.

Several minutes later, he is carefully astride John's back as the massive wolf runs through the streets of London and to the outlaying family home. Beneath him, he can feel ever twitch of muscle as his wolf runs and thrills in the feel of power he can feel in every motion. Curling his body close he does enjoy the breeze the way he normally does. Instead he enjoys the warmth of his bondmates fur in contrast to the coolness of the air. Part of him wishes they never had to stop, but he knows that is illogical. Instead he enjoys what he gets and easily slides off when they get there but waits for John before heading in.

Once inside the house he is surprised by how quiet it seems without the rest of the pack around. He is expecting to see Aunt Sandra, Harry and Rachel, and possibly Dora with her mother Andrea. What he is not expecting is a man who looks a great deal like John only taller and older with a woman with nearly flaming red hair to be seated in the front parlor where Aunt Sandra prefers to greet everyone.

Apparently John was not expecting them either because his eyes narrow as he looks at the two of them. He can just about feel the conversation going on between his wolf and the cobra who watches everything in the pack before his bondmate steps forward with a tight smile.

"Jason, Mum," he greets the pair but does not step forward to hug them which surprises him greatly.

His John is always hugging people for one reason or another so why is he not doing that right now? Something's wrong here. Turning his eyes on the couple he carefully takes in everything. Noticing the fact that both are dressed in clothes popular among well to do in France. There is tension between the pair, as if they had been arguing but are trying not to continue the argument in front of them. However the tension between them does not compare to the tension between John and the other wolf who he can correctly assume is his father.

"Alpha-second Sherlock Holmes, this is my mother Vianne Bayard, and her husband and bondmate, Jason Watson." His lover introduces him, his tones slightly clipped.

_John, what's wrong? _He inquires as he nods once to acknowledge he heard their names. He can just about see the anger on the older man's face at this dismissive gesture but ignores it.

"Jason, stop acting like an ass and greet your son properly." The woman snaps before standing and inclining her head politely, "Alpha Watson," she murmurs before pulling him into a hug, "John." As soon as she releases her son, she turns to him, smiling and repeating the process only saying, "Alpha-second Holmes," instead before hugging him. It is completely awkward because he is not sure if he is supposed to hug her back or not. She steps back and tilts her head to the side the same way John does so often and he sees the easy resemblance between them. "You should have been a cat," she murmurs, "I meant no offense."

He nods cautiously once, "None taken," which earns him a radiant smile.

Stiffly the older man bows to John but says nothing before sending a glare his way.

His wife quickly smacks him before settling back onto the sofa and pulling John down next to her, leaving no room for him or her husband. "You must tell me all about how things have been since you got home. We would have come sooner but you know how hard headed your father can be."

_Where's a case when we need one? _John inquires telepathically before beginning to answer his mother, starting with when he was shot and finishing with this morning and their gifts.

_I am sure I can find a reason for us to leave if you want._ He offers as he takes a seat on the chair closest to the fireplace.

Jason remains standing though he seems uncomfortable in his presence.

From time to time, Vianne asks him questions about the cases they had worked, asking about his blog and other events. Eventually Harry comes in with her bondmate, a curvy wolf named Rachel that he had only met once before. It is enough of a distraction that they are able to slip out of the front parlor and retreat to the library.

"John?" he inquires softly, not sure what to say, he thought John had gotten along with all of his family.

His wolf smiles at him a bit sadly before shaking his head, "Its alright, I had not expected them to come, mum maybe, but not him."

"I thought you got along with your family, what's going on?" he voices his thoughts, not sure how it will be taken.

His wolf sits down on the leather sofa shrugging, "He's not happy that I accepted a male human bondmate instead of trying to find my female one. Nor is he pleased with the fact I was made the heir instead of him, thus I became the alpha instead of him. I guess he always thought that he would be alpha first even though he is not an elite and this pack has never had a non-elite alpha before. Right before I was to take over as alpha officially he moved them to France to live with mum's pack." He pauses shrugging, "He also never liked the military pack and is pissed that I kept the pack link and even combined the two packs together."

"Oh," he murmurs as he sits down next to his wolf, worried that this will affect their bond somehow.

His wolf seems to know the way his thoughts are going because he unfastens both of their dominate hand sleeves and presses their bondmarks together stating, "We're bonded, now and forever, its not something I would ever change or give up."

He nods, smiling lightly and kissing him before standing up and tugging him towards the door, "Let's go rub it in his face." He suggests with mischief in his tone.

John smiles at him and the two return to the front room just in time for Aunt Sandra to come announce that dinner was done. So instead of sitting down they help her lay out all of the food on the dining room table before sitting down in their normal spots and allowing everyone else to take a seat as they want. Dinner is tense but surprisingly smooth. Afterwards, while Aunt Sandra and Harry are cleaning up Jason asks his mate for a word and the two men leave the room. Almost as soon as they do so, his mum turns her attention on him.

"So Sherlock, have you considered any candidates yet for a bondchild? Or will you be following the old ways and having a surrogate carrying one for you?" she inquires as she sips at her tea.

He just about chokes on his hot chocolate at the question because it is not what he was expecting, slowly he replies, "We have only been in a relationship for a few months, we have not yet discussed children in any way. He has been letting me get used to the world of shifters and being in a relationship first."

"Oh," her tone is disappointed but she immediately brightens up as she inquires, "Well would you like to have a child with John eventually?"

He blinks at her, trying to understand how he could have a child 'with' John. They are both men, so it is not like one of them can get pregnant. "I am certain that eventually John will want to start a family, he loves pups after all, and we will discuss it then." He will have to ask his wolf what the hell she means by having a child with him. They don't expect him to have a baby do they? It's not possible, he's firmly a man.

She nods and opens her mouth to continue speaking only John and Jason return, seeming as if they had solved some of their difficulties. The rest of the night goes surprisingly smoothly and he determines to ask what happened later.

* * *

**AN:** For those who are curious, the picture frame says "Forever soul mates"


	57. Christmas to New Years

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

Thank you to everyone who favorite this story, I cannot believe it has reached a hundred people who not only follow but have also favorited it.

Sorry it took so long to update, I decided to make my best friend a birthday gift thinking her birthday was this upcoming Monday, so I took three days to make it only to check the calendar and learn that her birthday is actually the Friday after so I had focused purely on it when I did not have to. However, I have most of the next chapter done, so it will be posted sooner than later.

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_Chapter 57  
__John's POV  
_Christmas dinner was tense, he had not been expecting his parents to show up when his father had made it clear on the one occasion they had spoken since he returned from the war that he was not pleased with him. Particularly not the fact he had accepted a human male as a bondmate. So he is very surprised when his father requests a word with him after dinner. A large part of him says he should not, he is the alpha of the pack, but another part of him recalls that it is best to be polite even when dealing with someone who is not being polite to him. Sighing, he agrees, heading to the library with Jason when they are done eating.

"What do you want?" he inquires when they get there without bothering to go through any of the formalities he would have used with anyone else.

"John, a human?" his sire questions, his tone bristling.

He smiles, deftly unfastening his left sleeve and pulling it open to show his father the completed bondmark. It looked like a cross between the side view of a sea shell and a spiral fern with a star burst pattern in the dead center. "Yes a human, my human, Sherlock Holmes, or alpha-second Holmes to you since you are not pack any longer."

The older wolf visibly flinches at this, stepping back and staring at him with wide eyes, "John we're…" he starts to say but is cut off.

"We're nothing. The moment you told me no son of yours would control you, and you intentionally broke your pack bond you ended any relationship between us. You knew before I went to Afghanistan that I was the other possible heir besides Emma, yet you did not wish to accept that. Fine. You made your choice. Do not expect understanding from me when you wish to say something rude about my bondmate." He snaps, interrupting whatever he was going to say about their relationship."According to pack law you shouldn't even be here because this is a pack house and I am certain Aunt Sandra did not invite you, she would have warned me."

Again the older wolf flinches, but he says nothing in response, instead chooses to stare at the floor.

"So if you have something you wish to say, this will be your only chance

For a few minutes the older wolf paces the room while he watches from his spot near the door. Finally he turns to him, bowing his head politely before beginning to speak. "Vianne wants us to move back, return to the pack, be around so when you two both start producing children she can see them. Though I am not sure how she thinks that's going to happen, your both partnered with the same gender." The older wolf pauses and he narrows his eyes at him as he waits for him to continue. "I agreed to come back here, to ask, but I am very hesitant to do so. I will not list all my reasons why."

_You have no reason too. It's moderately obvious. Though I would inform you, hurt our Elder and deal with me._ The two wolves hear using the basic telepathic link between family members.

It takes everything in him not to crack a smile at the cobra's heavy handedness. For all of his easygoingness, Eric is the opposite, and as such the two often balance each other in situations. _How long have you been listening? _He queries on the private link that they share because of all the time they spent in each other's head.

_Your mate alerted me that you had not expected him, so I decided to be me. Had I known he had not pre-called or requested an audience, you never would have had to deal with him. I apologize for my lack of awareness. _The cobra replies, his tone formal with annoyance. He did not like the rare occasions when he was surprised.

He smiles on the link before replying, _It's alright, I knew we would have to deal with this soon enough. Enjoy your day with your son._

The response was the mental equivalent of a nod before the cobra vanished from his mind. Turning his attention back to his sire, he is mildly surprised to smell the fear in his scent as his eyes dart around the room. It is then he is reminded that his father is more like his uncle and grandsire than his granddame in beliefs and behavior. It was part of the reason he had never told anyone else in the family that he was not just an iota, but a thera because his grandsire thought that there was something wrong with thera, that they were unnatural. Wanting to rub a hand across his neck but deciding not to he studies the older man, using a combination of the telepathic and empathic abilities he had studied and strengthen while in Afghanistan to do so without being noticed.

Jason was serious in his request to return but doubted that John would allow it, at least for him. The older wolf was proud of his son for becoming the alpha even if it did piss him off that he was not. From all accounts, his son was a better alpha than his brother had been and that stung since his brother had been considered the best alpha in the pack in five generations. Yet his son was completely different from any other alpha in the family or that he had ever met for that point. Alphas were commanding and strong, yet that was not the way John ran the pack. He ran it with an easy hand rather than a harsh one, with forgiveness rather than harsh condemnation. He had been proud of the fact his son was Special Forces, though he had never understood why he did not work with a wolf team, why he had a team of misfits. Still, the pack seemed to be thriving despite the mixing of the species.

Emotionally the older man was conflicted. A large part of him would rather be home, and this was his home. However he did not like to mix with other species, did not like the idea of being under his son in rank. He was also worried that the line would end with John and Harry, after all neither of them would be able to have offspring. He did not understand or believe in bondchilding or the surrogate carrying. Why both of his children had to pick same gender mates he did not know. It was not something that would have been considered right during his brother's time as alpha, nor his fathers.

Pulling out of the older wolf's mind, he considers the facts he had found before answering the older wolf's request. As a son he both loved the idea of his parents coming back and dreaded it. While as an alpha he refused to have problems within the pack which is father could become with his attitude problem towards non-wolves.

_Your view cobra? I know you were listening, _he queries of the taller man.

_He is sincere. At least he is in his desire to be around you and your sister. _He pauses for a moment thoughtfully before continuing, _leave any problems that arise from the mixed den to me. He will obey out of fear if nothing else._

_Alright, now go spend time with your son, _he responds to him.

A low chuckle is his response before the cobra vanishes from his mind again.

"Do you have plans for where you are going to live here?" he finally inquires of the older wolf.

Shock fills the older wolf's scent as he stares hard at him, "There is a small house we were considering purchasing if this was going to work out. We did not purchase it already because I did not wish to assume. I realize that there will be difficulties, particularly since I do not like other shifters."

"Well, I will tell you the same thing I told the entire pack during the reaffirmation: there will be no discrimination between pack members." He pauses for a moment, considering his next words carefully. "Meetings are held twice monthly. First meeting of the month is more of a meet and greet, second meeting is the important one. At this time I will not be accepting either of you back fully into the pack. We will give it a few months to see how well everything works out. If by Reflections you have adapted and adjusted to life within the pack you'll be more than welcome back within. Otherwise," he shrugs, "well you can always return to the Bayard pack."

The older wolf considers it for a bit before bowing stiffly and replying, "I accept your terms and thank you for the chance."

Shaking his head he chuckles, "Well should we go join the others? I am certain that by now mum has already started asking about grandchildren."

A small smile curves the older wolf's lips as he nods and the two of them rejoin the females of the family. After that the night goes smoothly, everyone visiting with each other though he can just about smell the confusion in the air at times. By the time they are ready to leave, it is rather late and he is happy for the cold air against his fur as he races home. When they get there, they quickly change into sleep clothes before passing out cuddled together.

A few short hours later he is awakened to the sound of his bondmate playing the violin. Upon leaving the bedroom, he stops by the front door and locks it. Smiling, he walks up behind the tall man at the window, and hugs him carefully, resting his head against the space between his shoulders but making sure not to get in the way of his arms with the violin. There is a brief pause for a moment before his dark-haired human returns to playing. His smile turns mischievous as he shifts his hold from a hug to a caress, his fingers slowly running down the flat planes of his stomach over his shirt, before sneaking them under the edge of his shirt.

Again the violin stops as his bondmate takes a shuddery breath. "Keep playing, love."

Slowly the tall man begins to play again and he gently begins to rub small circles. Slowly he enlarges the circles going from rubbing just his stomach to including his sides and the edge of sleeping pants. A low moan escapes him as he continues to play though his playing is slow and sensual.

_Would you like me to continue?_ He queries of the younger man as his fingers brushes against the top of his black curls down below.

"John," the taller man's voice is full of need.

He slowly walks around him, without removing his hands from the human's body. _As long as you keep playing, then I will keep touching you. _He grins mischievously. _I want to see how long you can continue to play while I take you apart. _

"Oh!" his mate exclaims as his fingers tug on his sleeping pants and pants.

Dropping ungracefully to his knees he takes the time to sniff his mate for a few moments before flicking his tongue out and licking a stripe up his erect member as he begins to tease him. Blunt fingers take the time to carefully rub and touch every inch that he can reach without touching him there again until he has the violin begging in his place. Finally he just about takes all of his mate's member down before sucking him to completion. When he comes, his mates knees nearly buckles and he catches him with the violin before he hits the floor.

"Well that was not exactly what I was thinking but hey, good morning." He murmurs as he sets him in his chair and carefully moves his normal chair. "So what were you confused about last night?" he inquires as he stands and goes to make tea.

For a moment his dark haired human is quite, then he asks, "What did your mother mean when she asked is we were going to have a child together?"

He comes back with the tea, pausing to unlock the door as he does so because he knows that his bondmate has already fixed his clothing. "Among shifter each person always has two potential mates, one male and one female. In ancient times when our race was still young, a group of Elder Thera asked the Old Gods for a gift. The thera were able to change a person's genetic material so perhaps the old gods would allow thera to combine the genetic material of two males or two females if there was a willing host who would carry the child to term."

He pauses to take a drink, "The bonding ability of the purely human off-spring was offered in exchange for this gift. Its probably when the split between the factions within the shifters began, though many would not know or admit it. The Old Gods accepted the offering and allowed this gift to occur. Meaning that any couple of the same gender could go to the thera, along with a suitable candidate to carry the child for male couples or a decision on who would carry the child for female couples. Their blood would then be mixed, placed over the stomach of the carrier, and the thera would then absorb it through their skin with their gift and into the womb so the carrier would get pregnant. From there on, the carrier lived with the couple until the birth of the child or in rare cases, twins. Carriers had to be human children of the correct shifter species, thus if a wolf couple wanted a child they would need wolf-child, and such forth."

Again he pauses, thinking back into his early years of training with his granddame before continuing, "The loss of the bonding gift is considered one of the harshest trades made within our kinds history. It only affects those of our kind who are born without the ability to shift, but in recent generations that has been far more than it ever was in our early years. More and more shifters are producing human children despite the fact they come from purely shifting families. Some blame the thera for this, which is why some cause 'accidents' to happen to the thera when they are young. That's when the older thera started teaching the younger ones to hide their gifts in the iota or omicron gifts, not revealing that they had both and thus were thera instead. A lot of thera end up losing their gift making them into whichever thing they pretended to be unless they were trained for both."

When he is done explaining this he waits to see what his bondmates next question is going to be. Silence reigns for a few minutes while he waits and his mate thinks about what he said.

"That's why Eric calls most species fools for not understanding the value of the theras. Who all knows within the pack that you are a thera?" his bondmate eventually remarks.

He smiles wistfully, thinking about it for a bit, "Eric, you, and Daria know I am a thera, there are a few that wonder such as Hyder and Spathi who have seen me heal things that should not be healable, Aunt Sandra suspects but has never said anything. Otherwise, no one knows."

"Do people realize that it is only thera's who can do the surrogate child creation?"

"Nope, most think it is just really skilled iotas that can do so now a days. When it was realized that the theras were being killed, many of the theras made it their point to erase from the clan histories what they can do, teaching only children with the thera gift of the full history of the healers within the packs." He answers setting his now empty glass aside.

"Oh," comes his bondmates response, as his scent turns thoughtful. "Do you want pups?"

Smiling a bit wistfully, he gives a small shrug, "Eventually, just not yet. I think we need to be a bit more stable in this relationship first, after all it's still fairly new. Past that, I would prefer you wanting them as well." he chuckles, "I get the feeling that's not something you are at yet."

Both men fall silent for a few minutes as they consider that fact. Finally, his dark-haired human nods before deciding to go back to playing his violin. While his bondmate is playing, he cooks breakfast of sausages and eggs with tea before making a plate and sitting back down. Almost immediately after he places the tea and plate of food down his mate sets the violin aside to drink the tea. While he is eating his breakfast he can smell the curiosity pouring off of his mate.

Eventually the taller man inquires, "So can shifters have children with people other than their bondmate?"

"No," he replies, "Our kind can only produce children with their mates, the exception to this rule is the human shifter-children who can only have children with humans instead, and their children rarely have any of the shifter abilities. Occasionally a human shifter-child will take a gifted or immortal lover which they produce a child with but it is really rare."

"Hmmm," his dark-haired human responds before falling silent again, wandering off to go do experiments.

The rest of the day goes rather well, Sherlock stays down in 221C working on experiments while he cleans the flat, putting the Christmas things that he had put out up with the exception of the lights hanging around the room. He makes himself a small dinner but doesn't bother to ask his mate if he is hungry because he knows he will say no. He had eaten a lot the previous night so he probably would not eat for another day or so.

The next few days go in a blur and it is soon the last day of the month. The morning of New Years Eve he awakes to the smell of cooking food, as he stretches he sniffs the air and notices the scent of pancakes and orange juice. He grins getting up and heading into the kitchen where he finds his mate setting the golden-brown pancakes on a plate with syrup and butter sitting next to them.

"Morning love," he murmurs as he pauses to kiss him before settling into his seat.

Sherlock gives him that hesitant genuine smile he loves seeing before setting the plate down between them and taking his seat. "Morning," the tall human replies as he cuts a piece of pancake and dips it into the bowl of extra syrup he has set in front of him.

"Sleep well?" he queries, after taking a few bites and remarking on how good it tasted. Since his bondmate rarely cooked, he made sure to praise anything that he did cook, thankfully it was always done properly so it was not a lie to do so.

A nod is all the response he gets as the two of them continue to eat in their normal styles. When they are done with their breakfast, he cleans everything up while his mate heads into the living room to check something on the laptop. He has just about finished up and is turning to go into the living room when he hears the taller man stand and start towards the kitchen.

He glances over just in time to see Sherlock pause at the door and inquire, "Would you like to spend the day wandering about London with me?"

Smiling, he nods once, before heading upstairs to get changed into a different outfit than his sleeping clothes. A few minutes later the two of them meet back at the front door and head out. Most of the day is spent with the two of them visiting nearly all of his contacts for the homeless network so he can give them a little bit of money here and there though he asks for nothing in return. By dinner time he is considering turning into a wolf and shielding because it is far less tiring to keep up with the taller man's strides when his are equal rather than shorter than his but he doesn't because he is enjoying their time spent together. Through the entire day he can smell the minor concern his mate is feeling but says nothing because he knows it will be brought up when he is ready to speak. However he is surprised when he decides to stop at an ice cream parlor for dinner, though he can't help but chuckle about it. After they both order and receive their ice creams, the two of them find a seat in the corner where they can observe without really being observed.

"John?" his bondmate mutters questioningly.

"Hmmmm?" he replies as he takes a lick of his ice cream.

With his scent becoming agitated the taller man asks, "Do you think I would make a good parent?"

Since that was the last thing he expected him to ask, it takes him a moment to consider the answer before replying, "I do, though I think I would have to make sure to teach them right from wrong, your compass seems a bit skewed some days." Pausing he cocks his head to the side and studies the taller man querying, "Why do you ask?"

Looking down at his ice cream it is a few moments before Sherlock answers him, "Your mother asked me when we were going to start having children, and Mycroft is asked by Mummy often when he is going to have a child, though I am never asked by her, some of the wolf mothers in the pack had hinted at us needing to start a family, so I was just curious what you thought." There is nervousness in his scent and tone, as if he expects to be rejected or put down.

Smiling at him reassuringly he comments, "You will do great I'm sure, it might not be the conventional type of childhood, but any child we have will know that they're loved."

"How can you be sure?" the taller human demands.

"Easily," he replies shrugging, "you're very affectionate with me when we're at home and sometimes even when we are with the pack. You're good with pups. So you'll be very affectionate with our pups."

"Oh."

Finishing his ice cream, he stands, tugging on the taller mans arm to get him to stand as well since his is long gone as well. "Sherlock, I promise everything will work out, we have time. I am an elite, and your bonded to me, that means unless someone kills one of us, we have at least thirty years before we have to worry about having pups, and we will be alive for anywhere from one-hundred to two-hundred years. Don't feel you have to rush just because some of the wolf females ask you about it or hint at it."

He nods and the two of them return to wandering around London though they eventually make their way back to the flat just before midnight. As the clock strikes twelve, he is mildly surprised as his bondmate pushes him back against the door of their flat and kisses him senseless before tugging him along to their shared bedroom for a long and pleasant night.

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AN: the scene with the violin was based off a nifty scene create by wendymarlowe in Sherlock Has to Wait


	58. New Years Day

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

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_Chapter 58  
__John's POV  
_The following morning he awakes to the sound of his bondmate playing a rather sad tune on his violin. Every so often he pauses to write something down and he realizes that the taller man is working on composing. Normally he composes to think things through or to work through emotions. At the moment, he has a feeling that he is still working on processing everything that had happened in the last week including Irene faking her own death, Christmas with the family, and their conversation the night before about if they should ever decide to have pups.

With a small shake of his head, he heads into the bathroom to get cleaned up, continuing to listen to the soft melody his mate is playing. A large part of his nature is telling him to go comfort the taller man, but his healers nature is telling him to give him space because that's what he currently needs. Sighing, he decides to go for a walk to think for a bit. Perhaps he should track down the human-hybrid and present her to his mate if that would make him feel better. Only he is pretty sure that it will not. At the moment, the only thing that is going to make him feel better is a little bit of time and perspective.

When he gets out of the shower he heads into the living room area to discover their lovely human landlady setting a pair of plates with food down. Smiling thankfully at her, he takes a seat and eats one of them, glancing at the other to notice that it is way more food than his mate would eat. After he is done, he heads into the kitchen to make a hot chocolate for his mate, knowing that even if he would not stop for a tea, he would stop for the chocolate. As he comes back into the living room, a puttering Mrs. Hudson pointed looks between the plate of food she had just picked up and his mate, worry and sadness evident on her face. He nods to her in understanding, before heading over to the little table by his mate to set down the hot chocolate.

_Please drink, _he inquires of his mate.

"Lovely tune, Sherlock, haven't heard that one before." the human woman states conversationally.

"You composing?" he queries aloud.

_Hot chocolate? Alright, I'll drink it, but no food._ The tall man replies telepathically, before answering aloud, "Helps me think."

Grabbing his coat he pulls it on and starts to button it up while his bondmate turns back to the window to continue playing.

_I am going for a walk, care to join me? _he queries, already knowing the answer but asking anyways.

_No. I wish to think,_ comes the soft reply mentally. _There has been a lot of me to adapt to. I feel…_his voice trails off as if he cannot determine how to describe it.

He nods once before asking aloud, "What are you thinking about?"

With a squeal on the violin he spins around and sets it on his chair before turning to point at the laptop, stating rapidly, "The counter on your blog is still stuck at one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five."

Stepping forward a bit so he can turn to look at the laptop he answers, "Yeah, it's faulty. Can't seem to fix it." _And I did not feel like asking Eric to fix it when he is having so much fun with other things instead. _

"Faulty," his mate repeats as he pulls the human-hybrids phone out, muttering to himself he says, "or you've been hacked and it's a message." Entering the numbers into the phone code it pops up with the warning about it being the wrong passcode. Sighing, he shoves the phone back in his pocket before lifting his mug and drinking nearly the entire thing in one shot before grabbing his violin again to continue playing. "Just faulty," he mutters.

"Well, I'm going out for a bit." he states as he watches the taller man.

There is no response as he heads to the kitchen to bid Mrs. Hudson farewell where she is tidying up. The look she gives him is sad and full of accusation but he still just bids her a goodbye before grabbing his keys and heading outside.

As he is going out the door his mate inquires, _The code was broke wasn't it?_

_Spathi broke it when she first got the phone, do you want me to tell you? _he replies.

A mental sigh fills his mind, _No. I'll figure it out._

_Alright, if you need anything text or reach for me and I'll answer._ He tells the taller man as he steps outside, a mental nod is the only response he gets.

He is just about to start walking away from the flat when a dark-haired woman wearing black and leaning against the fence outside of the flat calls out questioningly, "John?"

Pausing mid-step, "Yeah," he responds as he turns to see the woman and takes a delicate sniff of the air as he greets her, "Hello." She is too far away with the current wind to get a good scent but he knows that she is human, that she wants something, and that she's bored.

With a flirtatious smile at him, she straightens up and he repeats his, "Hello," with a bit more feeling.

As she gets closer he catches the after scent of another, one that is familiar and it takes his mind a moment to register that it is Irene's scent. Ah. That explains a lot, well best to play dumb and go with the flow. "So, any plans for tonight?" she queries with a small smile.

Giving a small chuckle he looks her over as he is clearly expected to do according to her behavior before looking around and answering, "Er, nothing fixed. Nothing I couldn't heartlessly abandon. You have any ideas?"

"One," she replies as she looks over her shoulder and back at him.

Glancing over he sees the sleek black car that pulls up next to them and sighs in exasperation. Really? Why doesn't anyone just use their phone. It would be fast and easy.

Continuing to play dumb he grumbles as he opens the car door and gets in, "You know, Mycroft could just phone me, if he didn't have this bloody stupid power complex." She walks around to the other side to get in. _Spathi, you with Sherlock? _He queries of the multiform as he is certain his mate had seen the display and will probably find a way to follow.

_**Of course, he is good at putting feeling into that violin I hear. **_Comesher quick reply, along with an image of the steps where she is perched and watching from within her shields.

Nearly as soon as he pulls the door shut the car pulls off and makes its way through the city to the empty building that was once the Battersea Power Station. Pulling inside the building, the two of them get out and the human female leads him through it.

As they are walking he queries sarcastically, "Couldn't we just go to a café? Sherlock doesn't follow me everywhere."

He can hear her typing on her phone as she murmurs, "Through there," gesturing to a door. As he heads through the door he can hear her on the phone, "He's on his way. You were right, he thinks it's Mycroft."

Smiling internally, he continues to walk but gives a quick sniff of the air. While the scent is mostly stale from disuse he can also smell the familiar tones of the human-hybrid nearby and decides to start speaking, he is really good at playing dumb when he needs to, it's the best way to gather information. "He's writing sad music; doesn't eat; barely talks, only to correct the television." As he is speaking he can smell a change in the scent, sadness is added to it that makes him want to roll his eyes but he refrains. As he continues to walk into the room he notices where the scent is coming from, "I'd say he was heartbroken but, er, well, he's Sherlock. He does all that anyway," his voice trails off as she comes striding towards him wearing a moderately conservative black outfit.

"Hello, Dr. Watson," she greets him as she steps closer and stops moving.

Quietly he requests, "Tell him you're alive." Because I am tired of playing dumb about you.

She gives a small shake of her head, replying, "He'd come after me."

Tilting his head a bit he responds, "I'll come after you if you don't."

Her voice softens as she looks at him inquisitively, there seems to be shock in her voice as she murmurs "Mmmm, I believe you."

In the dead air around them, her scent is rather noticeable as she quickly thinks things through, it includes curiosity and shock, and just a bit of worry. Before he begins to speak he catches another scent, one that is familiar as his own, that of his bondmate. He doesn't know where he is, but he knows that he is close.

A little louder and still playing dumb he remarks, "You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you."

Smiling at him she answers, "DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep."

Staring at her he sarcastically states, "And I bet you know the record-keeper."

She nods once, "I know what he likes, and I needed to disappear."

Being perfectly honest, he queries, "Then how come I can see you, and I don't even want to?"

She gives a small snort before throwing her hands wide, palms out and shaking her head a bit as she answers, "Look, I made a mistake." Dropping her hands she continues, "I sent something to Sherlock for safe-keeping and now I need it back, so I need your help."

With a single shake of his head he states, "No," in a no-negotiations tone of voice.

"It's for his own safety." She responds.

"So's this: tell him you're alive." He retorts evenly.

"I can't," she replies sincerely.

Taking a breath because he is beginning to get pissed he just about snaps, "Fine. I'll tell him, and I still won't help you." If it would remove just one thing from the concern his mate was currently feeling he'd tell him about the meeting so that he would know what's going on. It was not something he actually wanted to do, but he did try to always be honest to his bondmate. Doing an about face, he starts to walk away when she questions.

"What do I say?" her scent is full of worry and frustration with an undertone of acceptance.

Spinning back around he snaps, "What do you normally say? You've texted him a lot."

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and stares at it before looking back at him. He merely glares while she comments, "Just the usual stuff."

In response he bites out, "There is no 'usual' in this case."

Glancing back at the phone she starts to read them aloud and with each one his anger increases. He does not like the fact that she has been flirt with or at his mate, even if he knows his mate is uninterested.

Staring at her he questions, "You flirted with Sherlock Holmes?"

She continues to stare at her phone as she absently replies, "At him, he never replies."

Disbelieving he looks away as he remarks sarcastically, "No, Sherlock always replies – to everything. He's Mr. Punchline. He will outlive God trying to have the last word."

A smirk curves her lips as she looks over at him, "Does that make me special?"

He stares at her for a bit before answering, "I don't know, maybe." She's human, there is no ripping her throat out he reminds himself.

Glancing back at her phone she asks, "Are you jealous?"

He looks away for a moment before replying, "We're not dating," definitely not dating. Bondmates, lovers, but not dating, a bit past dating.

"Yes you are. There," she replies as she types something in to her phone before turning it for him to see. From the distance they are at, he cannot read it but she states what she typed, "'I'm not dead. Let's have dinner.'" Before she presses send.

"For the record, I am not actually interested in other men." He comments.

A smirk curves her lips as she answers, "Neither am I, look at us both."

From nearby he hears the phone go off before it suddenly gets silent. Frowning, he considers going after his bondmate but is stopped by the human-hybrid holding out her hand.

"I don't think so, do you?" she comments.

With a shake of his head, he leaves anyways but does not rush.

_**He's frustrated and mildly confused, if I was the friendly type I would be explaining things to him but I am not.**_Elspeth informs him as they leave the building.

A few minutes later he is surprised when Elspeth contacts him again. _**I am back off for a bit, venom has decided he wants a word with him.**_

_Alright, _he replies as he continues his walking back towards their flat.

oOo

_Sherlock's POV  
_When his wolf had left this morning he had debated about following him until he had seen the unfamiliar woman and the black car. Almost as soon as he had, he flagged a cabbie and had it follow the car. As soon as he knew where they were going he had the cabbie drop him off a little ways away and made his way swiftly to where they were. It took him a few minutes to go through the building without being spotted but when he did he came to a large room where his John was with Irene. Finding a place to stay hidden, he listens to their conversation.

From what he can tell, John is playing stupid about the fact that he already knew she was alive. That was probably a good thing. He was surprised when his mate demands that the woman tell him she is alive. He is well aware that his wolf dislikes her, so it confuses him, except for the fact he also knows that if she does so, then he can try for answers to his questions which would make him happy. Oh.

The anger in his wolf's voice is evident when she reads off the flirty messages that she had sent him and he had tended to ignore. He was happy with his wolf, why would he want a human female? When his wolf denies liking men he is heartbroken and almost before the phone in his pocket goes off he is spinning away and leaving. Originally he had wanted to confront her to find out why she had did what she did, but now he knew so it did not matter.

As he stalks through the streets and alleyways his mind is spinning chaotically. Had he done something wrong? Was that why his wolf was denying him? Sure he had been preoccupied this morning but John didn't normally hold that against him. So why now?

He is so lost in thought he almost doesn't realize when he gains a shadow except his instincts tell him to be alert and he pulls out of his mind in order to defend himself only he finds he doesn't have to. Leaning against the wall near where two muggers are laying is Eric, looking at his scale-tipped fingers as if he is bored.

_I know you are smarter than this._ The cobra remarks as he steps over the prone body of the closer mugger. _Let's have a chat as we walk. You are acting like a foolish human, something I know you are not._

"Foolish or human?" he inquires slightly lost as they return to ambling along.

_Foolish. _The reply is short tempered, _First off, it is fully understandable why a wolf would be bothered by the concept of someone else flirting with his mate. You know the answer to why, care to state it aloud?_

He thinks about it for a moment before slowly stating, "Because wolves only mate once." With that statement a bell seems to go off in his mind because he realizes that everything said was nothing insulting or denying. He had asked John to not make it public that they were in a relationship. He had showed interest in a person that had been flirting with him, which probably made his wolf nervous because humans could have as many loves as they wanted, and what's to say that he had not found her interesting enough to fall for her too, particularly with the way he had been acting lately. Oh.

_Good to see you still have brains. Shall we have a hunt so you may work off some of the annoyance I can feel pouring from you over the foolishness that you displayed? _

"Just one, then I wish to get home to speak with John." He replies but doesn't ask who is hunting who. That question will be answered soon enough.

The next three hours are spent with him trying to avoid the cobra who decided that he needed to be prey. Apparently, working off of fight or flight will help him with his emotions though he is not certain how besides giving him something else to focus on. By the time they are done, he is no longer feeling conflicted about the idea of him as a father, nor is he bothered any longer by the situation with Irene. He had also decided that maybe they should tell his brother about the fact they were together, though he does not wish to do so until after this situation with Irene has been dealt with. Like normal the two of them part ways just before his flat, he knows it is the cobras way of making sure he is fine without intruding.

By the time he returns home his mind is far clearer than it has been in several days and he immediately notices that someone has broken into the flat according to the chipping in the paint on the door.

_Need assistance?_ he hears the cobra query as he stops where he had turned to leave.

_Perhaps. _He replies as he pushes the door open and takes in all of the details within the hall between the flats. Anger burns through him and as he heads up the stairs into his flat to find Mrs. Hudson and the CIA men with her. _I will require a cleanup crew. _He tells the cobra as he steps into his flat with his hands behind him.

_Done, _come the swift reply, _I will make sure no humans out here interfere. _

He says nothing in response as he steps into the flat and spots Mrs. Hudson sitting on one of the dining room chairs that has been placed in front of the fire place facing the sofa with Neilson holding a gun with a silencer to her head. She is crying and grows just a bit louder when she spots him.

"Oh Sherlock, Sherlock." She cries out, partially as a warning and partly as a plea.

Voice cool despite the burning rage, he remarks to her, "Don't snivel, Mrs. Hudson. It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet." His attention switches to Neilson, "What a tender world that would be."

Trying to quiet her sobbing she looks up at him pleading, "Oh, please, sorry, Sherlock."

The first thing the man says to him is, "I believe you have something that we want, Mr. Holmes."

He continues to move forward as he replies, "Then why don't you ask for it?" leaning over carefully, he check Mrs. Hudson to see what all has been done to her before his focus switches to Neilson. The other human had made a vast mistake by touching his landlady and would pay dearly for it.

"I've been asking this one. She doesn't seem to know anything." The American remarks, not seeming to realize the danger he is in. "But you know what I'm asking for, don't you, Mr. Holmes?"

His focused gaze sweeps from Mrs. Hudson to all of the places on a person he could attack, he then looks him square in the eyes as he straightens up, tucking his hands back behind him. "I believe I do," he replies seriously.

Whimpering she murmurs, "Oh, please, Sherlock."

"First get rid of your boys." He commands aloud, _ I am sending two idiots out, please deal with them. _

The impression of a feral grin is the response he gets,_ By deal with them does that mean I can snap their necks and make them vanish or be a little nicer?_

_However you like. _ He replies still furious over their treatment of Mrs. Hudson.

"Why?" the CIA man demands staring at him.

He steps back one more step, giving himself plenty of room for what's to come. "I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room."

For a moment the other man says nothing, then he nods once, motioning to his minions, "You two, go to the car."

"Then get into the car and drive away." he orders the two of them as they slowly make their way to the door, "Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work." He snaps at Neilson, clicking the 'k' sounds in the sentences as he does so, the only outward sign to his anger.

Neilson nods once more and the two nod back before heading outside. A moment later he gets the impression sharp teeth sinking into skin before he hears a car drive away.

_They'll be dead in less than three minutes, their hearts will stop and they will crash harmlessly into a parked car,_ he hears the cobra, _I borrowed a bit of John's healing to make the marks vanish so there will be zero trace of how the poison got into them that killed them._

_Thank you,_ he replies before stating aloud, "Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me."

Snappishly the gunman comments, "So you can point a gun at me?"

Spreading his arms to the side he states, "I'm unarmed."

"Mind if I check?" the stupid man asks as he walks around Mrs. Hudson, falling for exactly what he wanted.

"Oh, I insist," he replies with a dark gleam in his eyes.

As the other human pats him down he rolls his eyes, shifting his sleeve a bit to get ready to drop the can of sanitizer spray from within his coat into his hand. Slowly the man goes from checking his front to checking back, focusing mostly on his torso. Bending his arm just a bit he waits until the other man is directly behind him and he can feel him looking down before he drops the can into his hand and spins around, dousing the other directly in the eyes with the sanitizer before fiercely head-butting him.

Neilson drops to the ground unconscious as he flips the spray in the air and sets it on the table muttering, "Moron."

After checking on Mrs. Hudson he sets to work dealing with Neilson. Including binding him to the chair and duck taping his mouth shut. Sarcastically, he goes downstairs and places a note on the door before making Mrs. Hudson a cup of tea and settling her on the sofa while he takes a chair aiming Neilson's gun at him.

Minutes later he hears his mate coming up the steps, apparently he had read the note because he takes the steps rather quickly as he demands, "What's going on?" while coming through the door. He watches as his wolf takes in the scene and can just about hear his thoughts processing. "Jeez. What the hell is happening?"

Lifting his cell phone to his ear, he replies, "Mrs Hudson's been attacked by an American. I'm restoring balance to the universe." While he waits for the phone.

His wolf immediately hurries over to Mrs. Hudson to check her over, murmuring comfortingly while surging a little bit of power into her while checking her.

"Downstairs. Take her downstairs and look after her." he tells his bondmate as he continues to wait for the phone, standing he moves closer to Neilson who has opened his eyes and is now watching the scene unfold.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on?" his wolf queries aloud.

Smiling a bit coldly he responds, "I expect so. Now go." _I have asked Eric to get a clean up team, they will needed when I am done with him for harming her._

His wolf narrows his eyes at him, _Good. I'll go see about healing some of that damage without her noticing. _

When the two of them are done with their shared look, his wolf sends a dark look to the bound man before following their landlady downstairs.

At the same time Lestrade finally answers his phone. "Lestrade. We've had a break-in at Baker Street. Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance." Turning his back on Neilson as he walks over to the table to set the gun down he continues to speak, "Oh, no-no-no-no-no, we're fine. No, it's the, uh, it's the burglar. He's got himself rather badly injured." Glancing over at Neilson he can read the fear in the other man's eyes as he lists all the things he plans to do, "Oh, a few broken ribs, fractured skull ... suspected punctured lung."

"What happened to him?" Lestrade asks over the phone and he can just about feel the frustration.

A slightly cruel smile curves his lips as he responds, "He fell out of a window," before hanging up.

A few hours actually pass before the Lestrade shows up, during that time he throws the CIA agent out the window and hauls him back up the steps several times between inflicting several other painful blows to the man. By the time that Lestrade gets there he is certain all of the injuries he listed are completely done. It takes the paramedics a few minutes to get him into the ambulance before they are driving off.

"And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?" Lestrade queries as they stand in front of Speedy's and watch the ambulance drive off.

"It's all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count." He looks over at him, eyes daring him to say something.

Shaking his head the detective inspector simply walks away while he goes back inside to visit with John and Mrs. Hudson.


	59. Into January Second

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 59  
__John's POV  
_A large part of him wants to go join Sherlock in bashing that human's head into the ground, but he doesn't, instead he stays with Mrs. Hudson, carefully checking each of her wounds and putting antibiotic ointment on them. As he places the ointment, he send tiny surges of power through her, healing the internal damage to make sure that she is not left in any discomfort, he also sends a bit of power through her to check the rest of her. Perhaps he should see about making her some tea one of these days, he can always place bits of power within it to make sure she get a bit more healing to stave off of the effects of aging that are more noticeable in a human than shifter.

Eventually, after a couple of short hours and a few cups of tea, he finally hears Greg and the medics come for the human intruder.

_Alpha,_ he hears Greg query his attention while his mate and him stand outside.

_Yes?_ he replies as he makes another couple of teas.

_What do you want me to do with this bloke? Sherlock has gone a bit extreme on him,_ the jackal-child replies.

_Send him to the hospital, I do believe that Sherlock has already given Eric permission to do whatever he wants to them, that means that he will be vanishing sooner than later. With no trace to find as a warning to those who would try a stunt like that again. _He responds as he makes the tea.

_Understood. _The jackal-child replies before breaking the connection.

Had had just set the tea on Mrs. Hudson's table when his mate comes in, carefully wiping his feet on the mat before entering and looking through the fridge.

"She'll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her." he tells the taller man as he glances between the two.

"No," she mumbles, still a bit teary.

"Of course, but she's fine," his mate responds as he pulls a mince pie out of the fridge.

Looking between the two again he states, "No, she's not. Look at her. Since I know she won't leave here, I would prefer her to come up to our flat for the night so I can make sure there are no lingering effects."

"Don't be absurd," his mate mutters as he straightens out and shuts the fridge door.

Sighing, he remarks, "She's in shock, for God's sake, and all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it, anyway?" the healer in him wants to fix any problems that she may have, a trait that he really tries to keep under control when surrounded by humans.

His mate nibbles at the pie, wiping a few of the crumbs from his lips as he replies, "Safest place I know," and glancing at their landlady.

She straightens up, drying her eyes one last time before reaching inside her shirt to pull the phone out, "You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot." She holds the phone out for him.

Accepting it he flips it in the air a few times before shoving it in his pocket. "Thank you," he murmurs before returning to eating his mince pie while she continues to talk.

Rubbing a hand against the side of her face she states, "I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry."

After taking another bite of the pie his mate looks at him commenting, "Shame on you, John Watson."

Curiously he repeats, "Shame on me?" not understanding exactly where this is going. He might be smart but he will never claim to keep up with his mate.

Walking over to their landlady his bondmate continues, "Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street?" he tucks an arm around her and pulls her close, "England would fall."

The last of the fear and sadness in the air vanishes as she runs a hand across his longer fingers and chuckles. A smile curves everyone's lips, though he is sure it is for varying reasons for each.

He tries once more to talk her into staying upstairs for just one night but she demurs, making an argument for the fact that they are home so any problems will be quickly dealt with. Finally giving in, he gives her a quick hug before heading back upstairs to their flat where he pours a drink for himself and makes a hot chocolate with almond for Sherlock.

Carrying the two cups out to the living room, he sets the hot chocolate down on the desk for Sherlock while he waits for the taller man to come into the room. Almost as soon as he does so, the dark-haired human downs the hot chocolate before striping off his coat and hanging it on the back of his chair.

"Where is it now?" he queries as he walks over to where he is standing.

Scooping up the violin, his mate turns to look out the window that has been replaced again as he tunes in his violin, and replies, "Where no one will look."

With a slightly serious expression on his face he states, "Whatever's on that phone is more than just pictures."

Still tuning his violin in, he responds, "Yes it is."

He glances at the floor for a moment before glancing at his mate and asking, "How do you feel about the fact she told you she's alive rather than just me telling you it wasn't her on the slab?"

His bondmate does not answer, instead he flips his bow string in the air and begins to play 'Auld Lang Syne' before turning back to the window. With a sad smile he settles into his chair to listen to him play as he goes from one song to the next. While it is technically the first going into the second, he is not going to complain. Several hours seem to pass while he listens to the sound of the violin. The scent in the air is mostly relaxed. Neither of them are giving off a lot of emotions at the moment.

Eventually Sherlock comes to the end of the song he was playing and sets the violin aside before settling onto the sofa. For a minute nothing is said, then his bondmate pats the spot next to him a bit hesitantly. With a small smile, he gets up and moves over to it, not shocked when Sherlock immediately curls against his side, folding his long body up against him. He just cards his fingers through those dark curls while he waits for him to say what's on his mind.

"I was jealous today," he murmurs after they had sat there in silence for a bit, "I thought for a bit that you were denying me." he pauses again, snuggling closer, "I am the one who did not want to say anything yet it bothered me a great deal that you said we were not dating. Do you think we could come out with it? Not necessarily tell everyone but just not deny it?"

Kissing the top of his bondmates head softly, he pulls the taller man onto his lap and wraps his arms around him, making soft relaxing noises, "It's alright love, we can handle this however you want. Though among our kind dating is only ever done by the unbonded, all bonded couples that have actively accepted it are considered in a permanent relationship. Many eventually get married or announce themselves as lifebonded just to formalize things during one of the six holy days."

He can feel Sherlock nod against his shoulder but the taller man says nothing as he stays curled close to him. eventually the two drift off to sleep. When he awakens, they had shifted positioning on the sofa so that Sherlock is fully stretched out with his head against his chest and his arms around his waist, while his arms are loosely covering his bondmates shoulders. He's not exactly certain how they had fallen asleep like that, but at least they had gotten a little bit of rest. Almost immediately after he awake, he feels Sherlock waking up as well. the taller man stretches a lot like a cat before sitting up properly, a blush staining his pale skin with just a hint of color.

"Better?" he queries, brushing a lock of dark hair way from his face.

He nods once, leaning over to kiss him before heading into the bathroom without saying another word. A little bit later he hears the sound of water as the tall man hops into the shower.

Smiling to himself he stretches out, rotating his should a bit and surprised to find it is not as stiff as expected until he remembers the fact he had not been using his gift a lot lately which meant it was burning energy to heal any old scar tissue he had instead. Unbuttoning his shirt, he carefully runs his fingers over the delicate area around where he was shot, noting that the sensitivity seemed to be leveling out and the muscles flattening back into their proper shape. There will probably always be a mark to show for it but eventually that's all it will be.

Still smiling to himself, he checks the laptop to see what time it is and sighs when he sees it is only four thirty in the morning, so they had slept for just over four hours or so. Oh well, he know he will not get back to sleep so instead he makes two cups of tea as he hears Sherlock leaving the bathroom, and wanders over to the desk to type on his blog a bit more.

A moment later, the tall human comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. "Thank you," he murmurs as he passes by, grabbing the hot tea and sitting down in his chair to drink it. "Sleep well?"

He rotates in the computer chair to face the taller man, "Yes, of course, you?"

Sherlock nods once before looking around as if trying to figure out what to do. Eventually the taller man decides to work on his violin because he gets out the resin for cleaning it and settles into his seat with the supplies surrounding him, carefully taking the time to check each string. For the next few hours the two of them work on their individual projects in silence, before Mrs. Hudson comes wandering up with a plate of biscuits and scones for the two of them.

"Good morning boys, I figured I would say thank you for getting rid of those nasty men and taking care of me with something sweet for breakfast since I was sure you were not going to eat a proper breakfast." She babbles as she sets the plate down on the table in front of the sofa.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, how are you feeling this morning?" he comments as he quickly buttons up is shirt and moves over to the sofa to grab a scone.

Smiling, she takes one of the biscuits and sits down next to him, answering, "I feel surprisingly well, actually I feel better than I have in a long time, my hips not bothering me so far today."

He smiles softly, happy to hear that the little surge of power he had used the night before had been useful. Glancing at the clock he realizes that it is nearly time for him to get ready, so he thanks her one more time before heading upstairs to prepare for work for the day. Before he leaves the flat Sherlock tells him that he is going to Bart's to run some tests on the phone and he will text when he has the answers or leaves the hospital. He nods and smiles at this before heading out the door with his jacket on and keys in his hand.

Just before he is about to go to lunch he is surprised when his dark-haired human shows up at the clinic with a small bag of food and a cup of hot tea. Sarah recognizes him and shows him to his office so when he walks in there he stands rather nervously according to his scent though that does not show on his features as he presents him with lunch before bolting without saying anything else. Startled, he goes back in his office to open the bag and see what's in it. He's rather pleased to discover that it is some sandwiches from Speedy's with home brewed tea.

-Thank you.- JW

-Good?- SH

-Very.- JW

The rest of the day goes rather smoothly, though he has one instance where a child is being harmed by his uncle and his parents are unaware of the situation. Not wanting to separate the family but wanting to deal with it he sends the information to Eric instead of calling for child services. There had been plenty of times when they were in Afghanistan that he had watched the cobra rewrite a person's personality in order to maintain the family unit without any risk to the little ones. He did not care what race or species the person was, if they harmed a child, he would deal with them. A little bit before he is to leave work, he feels the link establish between himself the cobra as the cobra shows him what he had chosen to do. The uncle would be turning himself into the authorities in the morning when he finally woke up from the massive headache he currently had from feeling every ounce of pain he had ever given to a child. The cobra also borrows a bit of his mindhealing gift in order to smooth the edges of the little boys memory after pulling the negative emotions out of him, making it so they will not be nearly as traumatic for him.

When he gets home he is surprised to see that there are no new messes to be cleaned up, even though Sherlock has the new lab downstairs there were still times that he would find random experiments that the taller man had started up here in the kitchen out of habit more than anything.

He is just considering what to do about dinner when his tall human comes breezing in with another bag of food which he sets in front of him before drifting off into their room. "Eat up John, there's a case!"

Chuckling, he digs in happy to actually get a chance to eat before the two of them are off chasing through the streets of London.

That second day of the month sets a tone of the entire rest of the month. On days he works Sherlock shows up with food and drink right before lunch leaving it in his office before vanishing. There are no new surprising major messes, though the little ones are still occasionally around which doesn't surprise him. Any time they have a case his bondmate makes sure he gets at least one meal before they are off chasing the criminals. At night the two of them cuddle either on the sofa or in bed, which often leads into other things, but not always, however his dark-haired human is initiating contact between them far more than he had in the past. There are only three days that this pattern does not hold true.

The first being the new moon gathering, the second being his bondmates birthday, and the last being the pack meeting.


	60. January Fourth to the Sixth

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 60  
__John's POV  
_January fourth was the new moon gathering, it also happened to be a solar eclipse. Since Jace had not had a proper childhood, he had asked one of the other shifter pups that was close to his age if there was any sort of significance to eclipses within the shifter beliefs.

Jason had heard the question and had turned on him commenting, "What type of idiot are you not to recognize the beliefs of your own kind?"

Before anyone can respond, Jace's eyes get wide and fear just about pours off the younger wolf at the aggression in Jason's tone. The most immediate reaction is out of Eric, who's long slender fingers are around the older wolf's neck and lifting him high into the air before anyone can say or do anything.

"You'll keep a civil tongue or I will insure you never speak in any way again." the cobra hisses in a low tone. Despite the quietness of his tone every single person hears him since they are paying close attention to the one who never speaks aloud.

Jace puts a hand on the tall man's back hesitantly before the cobra glances behind him at the younger shifter. A moment later the cobra tosses the older wolf aside like a rag doll, his dark eyes catching the attention of each and every person who dares to look at him before stalking off to some other part of the house. The young shifter wolf looks around a bit lost before he spots Aidan approaching the pup.

"You must be Jace, I'm Aidan," the younger cobra greets the wolf with a smile. A moment later the two of them are wandering off, the cobra carefully drawing the younger shifter out of his shell.

At the same time he watches as Cyanne approaches his father, putting one hand on her hip as she looks at the older wolf. "Would you like a hand?" she queries before the wolf gets to his feet.

He watches as his father gets to his feet staring at the mouse.

"You should perhaps consider learning patience if you wish to stay here within the pack," she murmurs to the taller man as he continues to stare at her. "You should also never judge someone without first knowing the facts. Jace came to our pack and is now the bondchild of the pack healer Daria, but his original pack had several who thought it was fine to harm a pup just because he has mixed bloods. The Old Gods determine who bonds so it is not for our kind to say whether the children of those bonds are wrong because their blood is mixed."

He can just about feel the bristling from the older wolf but the confrontation is ended when Aunt Sandra calls for everyone's attention in order to do the birthday celebrations. As the celebrations begin the mood is suddenly lifted though he does not feel Eric return to the house. Excusing himself he heads outside and follows the deep link that he has only with two people, the one his bondmate, the other the cobra.

It takes him a few minutes to track him down, even with their link when the older cobra feels like hiding he is hard to track. He finds him in the farthest part of the property in the old grove he had chosen to use for the Dawn Awakening.

_Eric? _He queries softly with his mind, knowing that sound is not something the cobra would appreciate right now.

_Go away John, I am tired. _The cobra replies perched high within one of the trees in the ring, ironically enough it is oak tree, the tree of the dark protectors in legend.

_Come down here, _he just about commands the taller man. For a moment he does not think that cobra will listen, but then he drops to the ground, silent as possible for someone of his height.

_Elder. _ He answers the command, his voice far more subdue then he is used to.

_Aunt, can you see that Sherlock and Aidan have rides home? _He queries of his aunt as he watches the older cobra.

_Do you need help? _She asks in response, worry filling her tone.

_Just make sure they get home without difficulty. _He answers as he loops an arm around the taller man and gets hissed at.

_Alright, be careful,_ she responds.

_Sherlock, I need to deal with something I will see you in the morning, Aunt Sandra will make sure you have a way home._ He tells his bondmate as they get to the taller man's car and he shoves him unceremoniously in the passenger seat.

He gets a nod of understanding in response mentally before he shifts his focus to the car, of course the cobra had to drive the fancy sports car. Couldn't he have selected one of his boring cars today?

_Stop complaining before I drive myself home. _The cobra grumbles but he know that he really won't.

Slipping into the vehicle the two are on their way shortly, and it takes him a few minutes to adjust to the delicate nature that is Eric's favorite car because it has a very easy gas pedal and touchy brakes compared to the cars his family had always had. A few minutes later he is pulling into the driveway at the cobra's house to park in the garage. Once parked, Eric opens his own door and goes to stand, swaying a bit before using the car as a support.

_I knew I was tired, just hadn't realized how tired I guess. _The cobra grumbles as he stands there with his head down waiting. _My thank, Elder._

_You haven't called me elder in years, I would prefer if you do not start now._ He replies to the swaying man.

A low laugh rumbles through the taller man's throat, _Only from force of habit do I call you by name, I would prefer elder, you asked me to do otherwise. _

_Well I really prefer not to be called by title, hence the reason I asked to be called by name. _He answers before asking, _To the garden or would you sleep in bed?_

_The garden, I rarely use the bed. _The spiky haired cobra replies, with it the feelings of loneliness that he prefers to avoid comes rushing through.

_This would be easier if I just carried your tall ass. _He grumbles as they make their way slowly through the house to the back part where the indoor garden and pool are.

Upon getting there, he strips Eric out of his over clothes even though he gets hissed at every step of the way before making sure he is seated in the one open spot. The cobra shakes his head a bit as if to clear it but it does not work. A moment later he is in wolf form and curling around the tall man, using his head to push him carefully.

_**Go to sleep, you've done this before, now get comfortable and rest.**_ He commands the cobra without putting any true command into the order. It is easy to tell that the taller man wants to argue but his body is not working with him, so instead he sighs and shifts so his head is resting against his side and stretches out so he is touching most of his body against his fur long ways before he finally drifts off.

Snorting softly, he gently touches the cobra's mind and tries to smooth out the edges of his grief and pain. He knows it will do nothing in the long run, for mindhealing has never worked on him, but it will allow him to sleep a little easier for just one night then he will take it. Every time he feels the cobra's dreams turn to nightmare he uses their connection and his mindhealing gift to pull him out and back into peaceful sleep.

Almost two hours later his ears perk up as he hears someone enter the house, using a broad sweep with his telepathy, he notes that it is Aidan returning home.

"Eric?" the younger cobra calls out as he walks through the house.

_**Mind speech only, **_he tells the younger man, _**we are in the garden. Keeping him asleep is not an easy task.**_

_Yes elder,_ the teenager replies just before silently gliding into the area. _Is something wrong?_

_**He's not been sleeping again, probably because he is adjusting to having someone around. Change has never been easy for him,**_ he replies, using his mind to force the cobra back into slumber as he awakens.

Aidan's eyes get big as he takes in the scene before him, his wolf form is huge, and this is the first time the younger cobra had been so close to it, then to see his father curled so closely to someone else, it was unusual. _Will he be alright? I had not realized that he was in such bad shape._

_**He has a bad habit of pushing himself 'till he drops, he would probably have been fine if he had not had to suppress the energy surge that comes with being angry for him. **_He tells the younger shifter. _**In that aspect, my bondmate is a lot like him. Figures the two that I seem to be closely bonded with have similar personalities. **_

A low chuckle escapes the shifter as he nods once, before bowing and backing out of the room. _Thank you for taking care of him. _

Glancing over at the younger shifter he inclines his head but says nothing.

Another three hours pass in peace in quiet after Aidan leaves before Eric begins to awake, his body coming out of the deep slumber he had forced him into. Slowly those obsidian eyes flicker open and everything that he normally keeps hidden is easily seen.

_**Good morning, feel better? **_ He queries as he watches the taller man stretch and get up.

For a moment he says nothing, instead his eyes narrow as he recalls the previous evening before he actually blushes. "I did not do that at the celebration did I?" his normally smooth hiss is gravelly.

He shakes his head once before returning to human form, "Nope, you left to go outside, since it was cold and you're a snake I tracked you down and brought you home. The only one who saw you besides me was Aidan."

The taller shifter flinches but says nothing as he scoops up his clothing and heads into the house.

Shaking his head, he follows him, unsurprised when he heads into the kitchen after dropping his clothes in a laundry basket.

"How long was I asleep for?" the cobra asks as he sets about make tea.

"Just over five hours, though I had to force you back into sleep when Aidan got here around hour two, you had automatically started waking up when you noticed his presence. I also smoothed the edges of your dreams to keep them from heading into the realm of nightmares."

Handing him his tea, the taller man inclines his head politely, "My thanks, do you want a ride back home?"

"Nah, I can get there easily enough," he turns considering leaving, but glances over at his moody pack member with a smile, "Perhaps you should consider an old fashion courtship, you'd feel better, and that itch would fade away."

"Fuck off John," the cobra snarls at him, it is not a subject he cares to discuss.

Giving a shake of his head, he turns back to the cobra, eyes narrow as he locks onto his mind and takes full hold, _Look, _he commands, showing him part of him that allows for bonding. Most of it is frayed but there is a small place that seems to be mending, with five bonds attached to it. The first three of those are to his children, the fourth is to him, and the last is the weakest and smallest but it is beginning to form towards the wolf-pup Jace. _Do you see? I can tell you right now, whether it was an intentional choice or not, he has already selected. He's a wolf, we only bond once. _

A low hiss escapes the cobra as he faces off against him. Both long poisonous fangs are fully extended, something he only does when in fight or flight mode, and not something he likes to lose control of. _No._

"Too late, already starting, now you have to decide whether it is worth trying or not and how to proceed, but don't make a choice on what you think is right based on the skewed perspective that the bitch left you with." He tells his tall friend before turning back around, "Get some more rest, you need it."

With that he takes off, leaving one seething cobra behind him, but at least he knows that he will give it an honest consideration and not just wave it off. As soon as he is outside, he shifts and shields, racing to get home sooner than later, right now he wants his mate.

Almost as soon as he gets in the door, he can smell that Sherlock is in 221C working on one of his experiments so he heads downstairs rather than up to visit with him.

"Hey love, you at a point where I can steal you for a cuddle?" he queries from the door as he watches the taller man flutter around.

It is nearly five minutes later before his bondmate responds, "Of course, just let me turn the flame off. How's Eric?"

"Exhausted, I swear between the two of you I will go prematurely grey." He replies grumbling, "Of course, I wouldn't change either of you for the world."

His dark-haired human chuckles and the two of them head upstairs together, shutting off the lights and locking the door behind them. When they get upstairs they both head to Sherlock's room to strip down to nothing but their pants before curling together on the bed, his lovers longer body tightly wrapped around him. A few short hours later and his eyes are snapping open as he awakens, his senses telling him it is time to be awake even though he was not sure why. Slowly, with patience and skill born of years doing special ops, he disentangles himself from his mate and flares his senses out to encompass the entire building.

There is a team of four men trying to get into the flat.

_Who is on guard duty? _He queries through the private pack link as he feels for a shifter and finds that it was Edward but someone had shot him with a tranquilizer.

Snarling low in his throat, he shields, vanishing from sight before increasing his shield to block scent and sound as well. Carefully, he checks each of the people attacking the house, annoyed to discover that they are all purely humans, well that wouldn't matter in the long run, they will all be dead. Since they are human he carefully rifles through each of their brains discovering that they had been sent to kill him and capture Sherlock. That's not happening.

Of the four, one of them would prefer not to be here but it was the only job he had been able to get and he was being paid well, so he would accept it as is. The other three were perfectly fine with the idea of killing a sleeping man and capturing another. The leader was not sure why they had been told to tranquilize or kill any animal that they saw.

Silently, in the early dawn light, he watches as the four prepare to separate, two are heading to his room upstairs, the other two to his mates room. Still it is not something he is going to allow. Quietly leaving the room, he shoves a heavy compulsion of sleep onto Sherlock's mind, sending him even deeper into slumber. A moment later he has silently stalked across the room to directly behind the attackers. The one who really doesn't want to be here he is not going to kill just yet, the other three are about to have neck problems.

_Eric, are you doing anything currently?_ He queries of the cobra as he snaps the first mans neck with practiced ease.

_**Relaxing by the pool, I was considering soaking for a bit, I have the computers on auto right now rather than watching them. **_His friend replies.

_Care to interrogate a human to see how sincere he is?_ he answers as he drops the second one with a quick palm strike to the center of his spine, adding just a bit of elite strength to it in order to snap it with ease.

The impression of annoyance reaches him as the tall man checks his laptop. _Why the hell did the alarms not go off? Where is your guard?_

_Couldn't answer you about the alarms, that's your gig after all, but Edward is dead to the world right now, he was tranqued. _He has just finished answering as he drops the third would be killer and kidnapper before reappearing behind the remaining who is looking around in horror.

"_Kneel," _he command using the alpha voice and dropping the plain human to his knees, unable to move.

From downstairs he can hear his bondmate stirring and a few minutes later the tall man is leaning against the door eyeing the man kneeling in the middle of his bedroom. "Why are there three dead men with broken necks and one kneeling in the flat? They are thugs but they lack identification and I cannot think of anyone who is currently after us."

He glances over at his tall human with a small smile. "They're human's sent by someone to kill me and capture you, apparently they did not do their research very well before setting them to their tasks." Turning his attention to the man kneeling in front of him he orders, "_Stand and carry your partner down stairs. Place him by the door but not in front of it then kneel again." _

Slowly the human gets to his feet, his motions careful as he follows the exact order. With a shrug, the two of them follow the thug downstairs to the main part of their flat just as Eric with Trace and Damian show up. Damian is carrying the unconscious Edward and settles the large owl on the sofa before joining his brother in collecting up the three dead men. Ignoring the human, he sits on the floor next to the sofa and reaches one hand out to brush against the feathers at the crest of his head. A moment later he sinks deep within his power, flaring it to life and burning all of the poison from the eagle owl's body. Several seconds later the owl's eyes flicker open and he straightens up before hopping off of the sofa and returning to human shape.

"That stings," he grumbles as he rubs his side.

"You'll be fine, just a little bruising, I healed all the after effects already." He tells the owl before shifting his attention to the human kneeling by the door. _"Stand and approach."_

With the same time of jerky motions as when he had carried his dead partner down the stairs he does so, presenting himself in military ease before him. Seconds after that the cobra appears at the human's side, eyes narrow and shimmering silver rather than their normal obsidian black, energy just about crackles around them before the human faints, collapsing to the ground.

_He's no threat, however he is being threatened. Shall I deal with it?_ the cobra inquires after the human passes out.

Snorting softly he checks the humans vitals before nodding once, "Thank you all. Edward try not to get shot again yeah?"

The owl smiles sheepishly as he comments, "I probably should have seen it coming, the two of them were walking way too casually for strangers but I thought that they were just wandering, humans do that after all."

"You might stick out just a bit too much in owl form since there are not a lot of eagle owls around here." He replies to the shifter, easily able to smell his worry and disappointment in himself.

The owl nods once, "I'll stay shielded from now on, if they cannot see me, I will not stick, excuse me please." The older shifter does a partial bow before exiting the flat, his footsteps silent on the stairs.

The wolf brothers glance between him and the cobra, with the older of the two arching an eyebrow in question. Apparently he gets his answer because both wolves nod once before leaving as well. A moment later the engine of a car can be heard firing up before pulling away.

_I will escort him to his home, pack him and his wife before implanting new memories in both their minds and making sure they have the proper documents before sending them on their way. Our friend Amber should be able to help them adjust to a new situation, _the tall man remarks.

"Alright, thank you," he replies aloud, _A favor if you would._

_Yes?_ curiosity colors the mind-voice of the cobra.

_Change both Aragorn and Mycroft's schedule to include an hour dinner here tomorrow night, I am cooking something nice for my bondmates birthday and wish for him to see his brothers, even if only for a short period of time. _He replies on their private connection.

The impression of a smile and nod is the taller man's response before he awakens the human and escorts him out.

"Well that was a bother, happily I have today and tomorrow off so there is not much I have to do. Do you want to do anything?" he asks his lover after everyone is gone and he has opened the windows to remove the scent of the strange human.

"Nope, I will be in the lab," his lover responds before vanish from their flat.

Outside it is just about day break, the sky just beginning to lighten as the sun rises in the winter sky. It actually looks as if it is going to snow. Happily enough nothing else of importance seems to happen. His bondmate spends the majority of his day downstairs in the lab, barely acknowledging him when he tells him he is heading to the store to get groceries. While he is out he sends a text to Greg asking if he would like to come to a bit of a birthday dinner the next night for Sherlock and makes sure to stop and ask Mrs. Hudson the same thing, both readily agree. That night he gets Sherlock to sleep by shifting into his wolf form and getting him to cuddle, something he had noticed that his dark-haired human vastly enjoyed.

The following morning seems to come a bit later than normal, thankfully enough he wakes up first and gets to spend a bit of time observing his handsome bondmate. He really never expected to choose the male option. But then who expect someone like Sherlock to exist. Even in his wolf form he smiles as he studies the normally energetic human with the long, lithe body, beautiful ever changing eyes, and devastating smile. Still smiling, he carefully returns to human form, kissing his bondmate as he does so until the taller man awakes, blinking slowly at him as his mind comes back online.

"Morning love," he murmurs as he kisses the tall man again.

Slowly the dark-haired human kisses him back, shoving him backwards onto his back. "Morning," he replies as he proceeds to kissing him again.

Their morning is filled with easy, slow love making as the two of them take turns undressing each other, touching and kissing, and otherwise just worshipping each other's bodies. By the time it is past lunch time, the two had still not stirred from bed though both eventually groan and get out of bed to take a shower together before dressing.

His lover heads down to the lab, muttering something about an experiment and he takes advantage of it to start preparing for dinner. Thankfully enough his mate stays downstairs while he continues to work and in short order he has the flat recleaned and dinner cooking. With a smile he makes a hot chocolate for his dark-haired human before taking it downstairs to him. An owlish blink tells him his mate was not expecting him to bring him something to drink but the happy sigh after the first sip says he was ready for something and just ignoring it as always.

Chuckling, he kisses the tall man, telling him to clean up because dinner is soon and no, he is not allowed to skip it. His dark-haired human grumbles but does as he asks thankfully enough. A few minutes later the two of them are upstairs and Sherlock is cocking his head to the side as he stares at the kitchen and the food set out. Just as the doorbell rings, he goes to check on the fresh cinnamon apple pie which is just about done cooking.

"John, why?" his dark-haired human asks as he takes in the fact that everything cooked seems to be his favorites.

"Happy birthday love," he murmurs to the taller man before he gives him a quick kiss and settles him into his chair for a minute.

Seconds later both of the other Holmes brothers, Shalen, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson are also in the flat.

"Happy birthday Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson exclaims as she moves over to his chair to give him a quick hug, "Shame on you for not telling me when your birthday is. I would have made you're your favorite biscuits."

The eldest of the brothers looks uncomfortable as he settles into his seat, carefully watching the others, while the youngest smiles and wishes him well before sitting on the corner of the sofa. Shalen inclines his head politely, saying nothing but perching on the edge of the sofa arm next to the younger Holmes. While Greg inquires if there is anything he can do to help.

"Nope, it's just about ready then everyone can serve themselves," he replies to the older shifter-child. Turning to look at his bondmate he states smiling, "In case you missed it, happy birthday."

For a few minutes silence reigns, he can smell the discomfort in the room and is just about pleased that he is the only full shifter in the room so he is the only one who's sense of smell tells him everything he needs to know about the others in the room.

Finally the immortal in the room turns to his bondmate inquiring, "Have you had any interesting experiments lately?"

On a safe subject, his bondmate starts in about his last experiment while the silence is finally broken and everyone starts to visit with someone. Slowly, as if unsure of what to say the other two Holmes brothers begin to chatter about their lives in the most insignificant way. Greg and Mrs. Hudson also begin talk, with the older woman asking after the shifter-child's children. Once the food is done, he calls for dinner, laying out plates and silverware so everyone can get their own. Dinner goes surprisingly smoothly considering that normally it is difficult to have his bondmate and his elder brother in the same room without there being a matter of one-upping each other. By the time everyone is ready to leave his mate is surprisingly relaxed and even content according to his scent.

Once they have all left, he gets out the small gift he had stashed for his birthday present.

"Here love," he murmurs as he hands him the small box.

His mate gives him a curious look, opening the box and smiling at what he finds inside. For his mates birthday he had gotten him a new cleaning kit for his violin, but it was the type of kit he would buy for himself, top of the line and perfect for his Strad. After that the two of them end up back in the bedroom, where Sherlock laughs when he spots the sundae making supplies laid out on the table next to the bed. It's a very long night with John going with anything that his mate desires. When morning comes he ends up calling in because he can't walk straight but doesn't have a complaint in the world about it.


	61. Greg's Daugters

Hi everyone  
Sorry its been five days since I last updated this, I've had three main things going on: lost my job, helped my dad with his home work (I got a better GPA then him when I completed my Bachelors degree so he has gone back to school to try and beat my score), and typed up six chapters on my new story Atypical Traits (starts of Moran/John and turns into Johnlock Mormor, if any of you lovely people would like to leave a review on it, I would greatly appreciate it!). So now I have three stories to bounce between though Atypical is going to be moderately short, I do not foresee it going much past 10 chapters.

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 61  
__Greg's POV  
_His divorce had finalized two days before, the day after a jackal had showed up with a packet of papers detailing that now that the marriage was over she was claiming birth rights to the girls, he was not to try and see them again. Panic had caused him to call Dimmock and ask him to take over the case, an emergency had come up. Thankfully the younger detective inspector had not questioned him. As soon as Dimmock had the situation in hand, he had bolted, heading directly to the flat that his pack alpha lived at.

Upon getting there, he knocks twice before using the key that Mrs. Hudson had given him a few months prior to come up. When he gets to their flat door, he knocks again, waiting for the shorter shifter to allow him entry.

He knew things between him and Crystal had ended badly but he had never thought that they had ended that badly. How could she have done this to him? After Madeline's birth he had a feeling that he was not actually his second daughters biological father but that meant nothing to him, she was his as surely as if he had been the one to sire her. The same feeling had crept in again at the birth of their youngest daughter Sofia with her almost white-blonde coloring despite the fact she was supposed to be the daughter of two dark-colored jackal-children.

He couldn't lose the girls. They were all he had left of his own little family, even though their mother and his in-laws had turned against him, they had still loved him. While his parents and siblings cared for him, he lived in a mostly different world then them because he had never been accepted into the pack because he could not shift. Since his acceptance into the Watson pack he had seen his family more, they were more comfortable talking to him about pack matters even though they were from different packs now. It was something he easily understood, particularly since he had taken a job within the human law enforcement, not the pack law enforcement.

His mind whirls as he waits for his alpha to open the door. A moment later, a chill runs down his spine and he finds himself turning as a blur of dark seems to approach. The next thing he knows, the packs older cobra is standing next to him, carefully opening the door and motioning him in. Part of him does not want to enter, he wonders why the cobra would be the one inviting him in, not John but he does not question it as he follows the taller man in.

When he steps into the flat he spots Sherlock sitting at the table nibbling at some bread and jam but john is nowhere in sight. A few moments later, the pack alpha comes out of the bathroom, dressed but rubbing his hair down.

"Greg? What's wrong, I can feel your worry and panic." The doctor questions him as he sets about making tea.

Silently he hands over the papers to the sandy-blonde, unable to answer aloud but needing him to understand. After he quickly glances through it, he passes them to the cobra who has sprawled in John's chair with a laptop perched on his legs. Silence continues as the alpha starts passing out teas starting with his mate, then him, before taking one for himself, and setting the last one next to the cobra as he continues to go through the papers. There is not a lot there so why he is taking so long he's not sure. Maybe the cobra found something that he had missed? Pack law was not one of his strong suits so that was altogether possible.

_This is illegal,_ the cobra eventually states, dropping the papers onto the laptop while he reaches over for his tea.

"What?" he just about screeched, startled and spitting up his tea. It was? How?

Black eyes turn to him and narrow, he gets the impression that the younger man is considering how to respond before he their shared alpha actually does so.

"I thought it might be, I did not see council or alpha permission either of which are required for that to be legal in our world." the alpha wolf murmurs as he finishes his tea. "You're the hunter, what say you?"

The cobra's black eyes close for a minute and he gets the impression that he is reviewing something, it is eerily like when Sherlock catalogues a crime scene or a person. When they snap back open a silver ring surrounds his pupil making it possible to see the difference between the parts of his eyes. _Deal with her of course. I have already contacted the proper jackals. We should head out shortly._

Groan, the sandy-blonde runs a hand over his face, "Eric," he mutters before standing and heading upstairs.

Confused he glances between Sherlock and Eric trying to understand what's going on, but there seems to be something missing. Some clue he doesn't know. How is this helping get his daughters back? Wait, would he get them back? Before he has a chance to say anything, John is back and wearing that golden-brown outfit he had worn during several pack meetings.

"Let's go, I am sure you have already got a plan," the shorter man mutters as he stops by the door.

With the kind of grace he had only ever seen in dancers, the cobra rises to his feet before gliding towards the door. Eyes widen slightly as he realizes that the cobra is wearing the same type of clothes. What? Blinking fast, he follows the two shifters out of the flat, mildly surprised that Sherlock is not coming with them. In the time that John and Sherlock had been together he had rarely seen one without the other except for on nights where he would go drinking with the wolf shifter. Almost as soon as they are outside, the cobra vanishes from sight just to reappear a moment later with a sleek but rather big car.

"At least it's not the sports car," he hears John mutter, "I really hate the sports car."

_You are odd, my other car is excellent for quick speed and good reaction, though I will not go into how I know this. _The cobra replies to that statement before querying, _Well?_

Nodding, he gets into the back seat while John gets in the front. Now that they are doing something the panic he had originally felt upon getting the paperwork is nearly gone. Sitting back, he closed his eyes and considered why he had felt such panic. Normally things did not panic him, he had been a police officer too long to freak out over most situations but when it came to his girls his instincts were not as simple to control. The idea of never seeing or speaking with them again had terrified him. So he did what any raised by a jackal family would do, he turn to the alpha that headed his pack. Thankfully he now actually belonged to a pack so he did not have to wait for an alpha to approve his request because he was not sure how well that would have worked.

_Considering how you were broadcasting in the pack link, it probably would not have been a good thing for your health. _He hears the cobra remark as he drives. _Telepath. Think too loudly and I hear it. _

"What he is really saying is, I listen to everything because I can." John remarks from the passenger seat a bit sarcastically.

Before he has a chance to respond they are pulling up to his old house, the one his wife had gotten in the divorce since she was the one the kids were living with. Since it was the middle of the day the girls were supposed to be at school. He could only hope that was a fact. As soon as the car stops he notices that there are three other cars already here, two of which he is very familiar with since it his parents car and his in-laws car. Oh God, that's a bad thing, his in-laws hate him.

_Immaterial. Their emotions mean nothing. _The cobra remarks as he presses the button for the car widow to go down.

Just after it is halfway down a small bluebird comes fluttering in right before he closes it again. Seconds later a young woman with vibrant blue eyes is sitting next to him before the door is opened and she slides out.

A low chuckle escapes the alpha wolf before he gets out of the car as well, while the cobra is smirking. Shifting his thoughts to when he is working, he also gets out, standing respectfully to wait for the two senior members of the pack. Moments later he is aware of who the third car belongs to as the pack alpha for his birth pack steps out of his vehicle with his beta and mate, along with one bodyguard. Oh shit. Jackal's dislike humans and human-children how was this going to…he starts to panic again but finds his mind locked firmly in someone else's grip.

_Calm down, you show disrespect for your elder with thoughts like those. _The cobra snaps and he knows he is the only one that can hear him right now.

Slowly he nods once.

From above the cry of a hunting bird can be heard but when he glances up there is nothing there. Then, surprisingly enough he spots the packs beta walking down the street as causally as you please wear formal clothes of a similar style to both John and Eric. When he gets close, he bows to John once before politely inclining his head to Eric and bowing to the alpha of the jackal pack but no one else.

"Alpha Hayes, we thank you for your time," the beta formally greets the alpha he had grown up with.

The jackal's eyes cut across them, studying each of them in turn before he nods once, "My thanks for the polite invitation." The sarcasm is just about noticeable in his tone.

_Elder-second Jackal Hayes, Elder Jackal Hayes, Senior Jackal Townshend, Dame Lestrade, jackal Lestrade, Dame Reeve, jackal-child Reeve._ He hears the cobra greet each of them in turn, startled that he greets the females prior to the males. _I present Elite Elder Wolf Watson, Elite Senior Falcon Hope, and Healer Bluebird Pierce. _

For some reason the cobra does not introduce himself which he finds odd but does not question. Apparently he does not need to because all three of the jackal elders look between John and Eric before taking one step back, both non-alpha jackals step back and bow politely to the cobra who ignores them.

"Elite Alpha Watson," the jackal alpha murmurs politely, "What can I do for you and yours?"

"Tech has determined several illegalities, as a Tracker he does not need to call council but as a cobra he is prone to making sure that there can be no questions of legality." The wolf replies.

He knows his eyes widen because he had not realized that the cobra was a Tracker. That was the equivalent of police, judge, and jury among the shifter kind however they had to be approved by one of the Old Gods which made them extremely rare. To be a Tracker a person had to go through either an extreme loss or a high amount of training by another Tracker.

_Jackal-child, it would be best if we took this inside._ The cobra suggests to his ex-wife though according to tone it is not really a suggestion but an order.

She flinches but nods, and the group of them goes inside. Once inside the house, the cobra pulls out the paperwork and hands it to the alpha of the jackals. Carefully the alpha reads through it before his focus shifts to his ex-wife, a cold fury burning in his eyes.

"What is this?" he demands harshly before handing the paperwork to his mate to read.

She carefully looks it over before her head jerks up. "This should have come to me, as the alpha-second of the pack whose territory you live in, it would have required permission. This is not legal. How dare you?"

His ex flinches away, "I didn't realize there was something illegal, we were married in human courts not pack council."

"That does not matter, you are aware of pack law, you were raised within the pack and did this through the pack, thus you have broken pack law." The female jackal snaps.

"They're not even his so it does not matter," she replies, worry in her voice.

_That is the first law you broke, the bonding or marriage of two individuals is one of the most scared laws among the shifters, to break the trust of it is to bring down punishment. The second law you broke was the child protection law to endanger your child by bringing an outside shifter into the house as a lover. The third law is of family bonds. _The cobra states, _Since you have already admitted to two of the broken laws do you care to admit to the third?_

She flinches again but says nothing.

_This is rather simple actually, your crimes are those that would have had you banished and made sterile in the past. You are not pack, so your punishment will be sterilization and the loss of all rights regarding your children. _His voice is a low hiss as he tells her. Then he turns his attention to the guard with the jackal alpha's. _You really should have had someone else come here instead. I can smell your mixed genes in this house. You are just as guilty of the same three broken laws. Only for you it is worse you are a jackal within the pack. Your punishment belongs to the alpha-second of your pack since you do belong to a pack._

The alpha-second looks between the cobra and the guard before she nods, "He will be dealt with tonight at the pack meeting, my thanks Tracker for allowing us to deal with the situation within the pack. We will be leaving now, things will need to be prepared."

The tall cobra inclines his head once saying nothing. However he tilts his head towards the bluebird, a questioning look on his face. With that the four full jackals leave and he finds himself sitting in what used to be his house with his ex staring in horror at the cobra, but she is begging aloud for the jackals to intervene yet they are ignoring her. From her the punishment will be banishment, no longer will anyone within the jackal pack Hayes speak with her. that means not only has she lost custody of the girls but she has been disowned because nearly the rest of her family are jackals within the pack.

Wait, she lost custody of the girls, does that mean he gets their custody? Where will they live his flat is not nearly big enough. Oh shit. What to do now?

He is just about ready to panic again when John steps next to him, murmuring, "You are pack, any assistance you need will be provided. I do mean any assistance."

He nods, feeling as if a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders.

Silence falls on the room as the four jackals leave.

His ex-wife gets up and heads towards the kitchen with Eric keeping a close eye on her not allowing her out of sight. When she gets back with a drink she looks between the five of them before trying to beg from John to not allow this to happen. He ignores her, glancing over to the bluebird female to inquire if she was there as observer or healer. If she responds it is done silently because he hears nothing. Finally, his ex goes from begging about how this isn't fair to screaming and falls silent suddenly after a sharp look from the cobra which has her clutching her throat.

_I have summoned Aidan with another car so that the girls may collect their things since this house technically belongs to her. If you need, I have another house in town that you could rent or purchase, I do not use it. _The cobra tells him as he hears his daughters coming up the front walk way. _It belonged to my cousins, they are long dead and it has been emptied long ago. I maintain it in case someone within the den needs assistance. None of the wolves currently need it._

His eyes widen as he thinks about it, "Seriously?"

_Of course, I never lie._ The cobra responds.

A moment later his daughters are walking into the room, all three stop when they spot him but his youngest quickly drops her book bag, running over to him, and hugging him.

"Daddy!" she squeals happily.

"Dad? Are you here for a visit?" his oldest asks as she glances between him and the others.

His middle daughter says nothing just watching him with curious eyes instead.

"Hi beautifuls, actually you three are coming to stay with me, ummm why don't you go gather a couple of changes of clothes? We can figure out the moving plans later." He tells his daughters as he hugs each in turn, though he holds his youngest the longest.

Madeline gives him a careful look, before taking Sofia by the hand and leading her upstairs. Their older sister Charlotte answers the door even before there is a knock, startling him a bit before heading upstairs. The person she had let in was the other cobra. Aidan moves just as gracefully as the older one and comes to stand next to him. While the girls are packing their things, the bluebird looks over at his ex and motions to the sofa.

_After the girls have bid their farewell I will complete the sterilization. _He hears a soft female voice whisper through his mind and realizes that it is the bluebird broadcasting to the adults only.

Several minutes later his girls come back down each taking a turn to hug their mother before looking at him questioningly. Before he has a chance to comment, the younger cobra comments that he is their ride and takes them out to the car.

_It is your choice whether you stay to observe or not, Aidan can give you a ride to your flat or the house, whichever you choose. _The cobra tells him.

"My flat, tonight at the pack meeting we can discuss an agreement for purchasing the house after I see it." he responds, "I think I will go though, I really don't want to see this."

With that he bows to John before turning and walking out of the house, it will be the last time he does so his gut tells him, because after this he will never see her again. When he gets to the car he smiles at the girls before giving Aidan his address to the flat. The younger man nods once before putting the car in gear and driving off. The ride to his flat goes smoothly and he thanks the cobra for the ride when they get there.

The next few hours are spent with him explaining things to his daughters, and while it is not a conversation he is really happy to have. Happily enough, his oldest and middle daughter understand enough of it to understand. His youngest doesn't understand but then she is only a little girl. When they are done with the talk he has them each get their homework done while he makes dinner, ever so happy that he had gone shopping the night before. Though now he would have to do even more shopping.

After dinner he has the girls get cleaned up, he had already decided to formally present them to John to see if there was a chance that they would be accepted into the pack as well. So when Aidan arrives just past seven with the car to see if they are going, he is happy that they seem to be the only ones riding with him.

_Actually this car will be for your use after this, I will be riding back with Eric. _The younger cobra remarks as they get in.

"What?" He questions, mildly surprised. How could he afford to do that?

The younger man shrugs, _Eric said to give you the keys to this upon reach the estate, we do not need it. He has at least two other vehicles and can always purchase another if he needs one. _

"I'll have to speak with him about that." He mutters, he has never taken handouts and does not plan to start now.

A low chuckle escapes the young cobra driving, _He does not do handouts. However he does take care of those within the den with young. You are part of the den, you have three young, it is logical. _

In the back seat his daughters are softly talking about school. For a bit that is the only noise in the vehicle, then he decides to inquire, "So how are you related to Eric?"

_He is my sire, ummm father. _The younger man responds, _I am just over eighteen, only been here for a couple of weeks. I recently moved here from the States where my dame's family lives. _

"Oh," he replies, he had not realized Eric was old enough to have an eighteen year old son.

_He was fifteen at the time of my birth. He is now thirty-three. _The younger cobra replies. _We are nearly there, the Healer has directed me to inform you that the girls are welcome, their greeting ceremony will be first off as a cause for celebration. _

"Alright, thank you." he replies, he still needs to have a talk with Eric about the car and the house. Nearly as soon as they get there the younger cobra parks and leads them to where the pack has gathered.

Standing in the same spots as when he was first welcomed into the pack is John with Sherlock, Jacob, Eric, and Daria. Like when John had originally accepted him to the pack, he calls each of the girls names touching his wrist to theirs. Charlotte, his oldest requires no prompting when she is called forward and steps up with her head held high, though she blushes when she clasps wrists with both Sherlock and Eric. Madeline follows her older sister's behavior though she doesn't blush the way her sister does. Sofia on the other hand seems confused about the process so John scoops her up and presses their wrists together before passing her carefully to Sherlock who repeats the process before handing her to Eric who plays with her for a moment before doing the same and holding her while Jacob and Daria greet her as well.

When that is done, since they were the only new pack members, John does the announcements, including the fact he will start working with anybody who wishes for training in regards to shifting, something that the younger members need and some of the just shy of human members appreciate. Eric meanwhile vanishes off to a different part of the house with his daughter and the rest of the packs pups who come to play. Once the cobra has worn all of the children out, he tucks them into the children's area where there are plenty of sleeping areas for them to crash in while their parents finish the pack meeting.

_You desired to speak of the car and house, here I will give you a quick tour of it,_ the older cobra comments as he gently links with him, taking him through the house room by room.

It is a rather simple home yet it is perfect for what they need. There is a full basement with a laundry area set up. The ground floor has a nice size kitchen full of appliance, there is a dining room with a simple table that seats eight, the living room has a fire place, a downstairs bathroom, and a front entry with going upwards along with the doors to the other rooms. While the upstairs is rather simple, it is divided with two bedrooms on either side of the stairs across from each other, a shared bathroom in between each. There is a small fenced in yard out back and a garage that could fit his car to the side. It is a few minutes further away from away the Yard but that is alright because it is in a nice neighborhood and should be fairly safe for the girls. He'd be able to drop them off on the way to work

_Well? _the cobra inquires after giving him a moment to consider it.

"That place is amazing, are you sure you want to sell it?" he replies.

_I have no need for it. It is not a cobra's home. Aidan will build his own home eventually. There is no reason it should not go to someone within the den that would appreciate it._ He remarks, _The amount you currently pay for your flat, that will be adequate payment for it for the next five years. Do not bother trying to argue with me, it will fail. If you decide to find somewhere else before that the contract will be ended without penalty. _

"That's too much for too low a price," he starts to argue but then Mouse appears next to him chuckling, "What?" he inquires.

"Don't bother trying to argue with him, you'll lose. Even if he agreed to take more money he would just put it into the stock market and then create trust funds for the girls with it. He's stubborn like that. John wasn't originally poor. He just put all of his money into trusts and did not want to get into them. However our friendly cobra here has actually increased the amounts of money in that account that he probably could live off of it permanently without ever touching the base amount." She answers him with a smile, gently ribbing the cobra who merely smiles at her.

Realizing that it would be like trying to argue with Sherlock he agrees to the deal. "Alright, but this is for them, not me."

With a smile the cobra replies, _Excellent, you can move in this weekend. I will have the cleaning team do one more sweep of the house. The car will be included in the mix, though you will have to have the maintenance done yourself. I can suggest several mechanics if you need._

He nods, then checking the time realizes how late it is and goes to collect up his daughters. After bidding farewell to everyone he carries his youngest while his middle daughter stumbles along with guidance from his oldest.

When he gets back to the flat he puts the girls to bed in his room, the only room in the flat with enough space for all three of them to sleep before he goes to crash on the sofa. He will figure out what to do with them while he is working tomorrow.

* * *

AN: I realize that Greg might seem a bit out of character but I figured that he is a strong family man and would not react well to being told he could not see his children any longer.


	62. Bond Air

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

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_Chapter 62  
__John's POV  
_In the last six months since everything that had occurred with that damned hybrid, as he was prone to thinking of Irene, things had gone mostly smoothly. There were still days where he worried about his mate, particularly on the days where he would consider that blasted hybrids phone. There were actually times he had considered unlocking it merely so he would stop feeling so frustrated by it. Yet he did not because he knew that would bother him worse. Thankfully though, those days where not nearly as often as they could be only occurring two or three times a month. Throughout those six months his beautiful bondmate seemed to come even further into himself since he was still working with the old pups on their deduction and had actually added three more to his rotation of teenagers. His work with Lestrade had continued as well and he even accepted some of the lower value cases when he had the ones who wished to become detectives with him. There were days he worked in the lab or crashed on the sofa, falling deep into his mind. Then there were days that was just them. Those were his favorite days where he would awaken to his bondmate and lover sprawled out in bed with him, long body often wrapped around his in sleep or perched over him when the taller man was waiting for him to wake up naturally.

He thanked the Shadow Mistress regularly for such a unique gift in his mate.

Pack meeting went smoothly, the one year anniversary of when Jace had joined the pack had already passed. Those that had submitted to Daria's punishment had already died, one within two weeks of the punishment, the other two within the fortnight before they would have hit the year marker. Talos had been executed and dealt with by the wolves of the military pack. Michael had stayed with training under Jeffery and had actually requested to continue for one more year, his guilt over his actions had been extreme. The older omicron had agreed with this as well, taken it as a good sign, thar perhaps the younger one could become a decent pack member with continue training. As for Jenna, well, she hadn't left Eric's basement since the original punishment was handed out and the chances of her ever leaving it alive were very slim since she still insisted that it was Jace's fault that he was abused, not hers. A small part of him wonders what Eric will do about her if he ever gets around to bonding with her birth-son.

Their one year anniversary had also passed though they had been on a case at the time so it was not celebrated until the week after, during which time they had gone on a small vacation for three days to a bee farm that has a small bed and breakfast. They had spent all three days between Sherlock enjoying studying the bees to them spending time together, it had been awesome. As an anniversary gift he had gotten the taller man a set of silver cufflinks in the shape of bees, the really unique part of those cufflinks was the fact that the underside of the wings held a thin lock pick so as long as he had the cufflinks he would have a way to pick locks. His bondmate had spent a day watching Star Wars movies with him as his anniversary gift, not even complaining at the parts he thought were stupid, at least not aloud, his thoughts were a totally different thing.

So he was not surprised when that six month marker passed and he had gotten home to the smell of that hybrid in their flat. His mate was standing at the door to their room, staring inside, and remarks, "We have a client."

"What, in the bedroom?" he queries as he walks over to him after grabbing a drink out of the fridge. "Ohhhh," he murmurs in response to seeing the hybrid sprawled in their bed. he will be changing the sheets and blanket for washing before they go to sleep next. Sighing, he heads back into the living room and starts puttering around, as he does so he notifies Eric through their link of the events going on within the flat.

A few minutes later he hears the hybrid waking up and his mate speaking with her, directing her to the shower before coming back out to join him. apparently the tall man could feel my annoyance because he takes a moment to rub against him before settling grabbing a chair and placing it in the living room next to the desk to settle into. While his mate is doing that he makes three teas out of politeness, giving his mate his tea and leaving hers sitting on the counter, she can grab it when she comes back through, before he settles into his spot in front of his laptop.

The tea is just about cold when she comes back out but she drinks it anyways as she sits down in his mate's chair wearing on of his blue silk dressing gowns. Annoying hybrid.

Finally his bondmate inquires, "So who's after you?"

Slightly sarcastically she replies, "People who want to kill me."

Just as sarcastically the dark-haired human retorts, "Who's that?"

He can smell her attraction as she replies with a smile, "Killers."

Blandly he remarks, "It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific."

At nearly the same time as his bondmate states, "So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them."

She gives a small nod, glancing away as she says, "It worked for a while."

Softly he remarks, "Except you let John know that you were alive, and therefore me."

She looks away as she states, "I knew you'd keep my secret."

Slight confusion mars his bondmates scent as he states, "You couldn't."

Satisfaction blooms in her scent as she just about smirks inquiring, "But you did, didn't you?" Sitting back in the seat she continues, "Where's my camera phone?"

Leaning on his hand which is resting on the table he answers, "It's not here. We're not stupid." However, he is fairly certain that his mate does have it hear, even if he likes to pretend otherwise sometimes.

Again she leans forward a bit, her eyes flickering between the two of them as she states, "Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you"

Closing his eyes for a moment, his mate takes a breath before replying, "If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago."

Softer than most people could hear she sighs, "I need it."

It's his turn to glance between the other people in the room, "Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?" after that he falls silent, knowing that there is more going on than he wishes to say. Besides, she's effectively human meaning that she is Sherlock's domain to deal with unless he is directly asked.

She gives the both of them looks before sighing and shifting in her seat a bit.

Then his mate pulls the phone out of his pocket, playing with it as he queries, "So what do you keep on here, in general, I mean?"

She stands, crossing her arms over her chest and smiling tightly at him as she answers, "Pictures, information, anything I might find useful." Her scent is full of annoyance along with a bit more of attraction towards his mate.

In order to distract himself he asks, "What, for blackmail?"

She gives him a slightly cold look as she answers, "For protection." Before looking back at his mate, "I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."

Watching her with a bland expression, his mate queries, "So how do you acquire this information?"

Smirking, she replies in what he supposes is suppose to be a flirty tone, "I told you," she leans forward a bit, just about hissing the next part, "I misbehave."

He is ever so happy his bondmate ignores the flirting and continues on his train of thought, "But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?

Nodding once, she hisses again, "Yes," before switching back to normal speech, "but I don't understand it."

_Gezzz, she hisses more than Eric, Daria, or Nathan and they are all snakes, _he mentally mutters to his mate.

"I assumed," his mate replies to her but smiles slightly for him, commenting telepathically, _I noticed, I think she is trying to come on to me but I do not see the appeal, _before continuing, "Show me."

Unfolding her arms, she reaches out with one hand for the phone, palm upwards. Her scent is expectant but he knows his mate better than that. The chance of him doing what she wants on the first try or at all are slim.

"The passcode?" he queries blandly as he holds the phone by his head.

She lifts her head in challenge and he watches in amusement as the two have a seemingly test of wills before the tall human hands her the phone for her to enter it.

It's not her phone, his mate mentally remarks as he watches her. I want to see if she notices.

He mentally chuckles in responses, watching as she types into it and it does nothing before his mate plucks it out of her hands with a sarcastic remark before quickly explaining that he was not handing over the original just yet. Though he frowns when he realizes that she had given him the wrong passcode. Sighing, the tall man ends up handing it over though he can tell from his mates scent he is not pleased to do so. Of course her scent is that of satisfaction, she's very pleased by how things are going and explains rather quickly what is getting her into the situation she is in and hands the phone, now unlocked, back to his mate.

Ignoring her, his mate studies the code. He knows that the taller man is breaking it even as she continues to speak. When she kisses his mates cheek, he sets his mug down a bit harder than he had attended even as his mate flickers an annoyed glance at him.

Finally the tall man quickly recites, "There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds."

He knows he is giving his mate a blank look but it is really the only expression he can manage when he really wants to rip the damn hybrids throat out for touching his mate in such an intimate way.

Beside his mate, Irene is giving him a serious look. a not quite smile on her face as he speaks, but she is slowly straightening up.

"Oh, come on. It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look," Flipping the phone around towards him his bondmate continues, "There's no letter 'I' because it can be mistaken for a '1'; no letters past 'K', the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place, families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter 'K' or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number, zero zero seven. That eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be, logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased, pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent," he continues to ramble as he gets to his feet, "the only flight that matches all the criteria and, departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport."

Wonder and admiration, along with a heavy dose of desire from her fills the air as she stares at him with her emotions written across her face.

Blandly, his mate looks down at her, remarking, "Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John's expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language."

Leaning towards him she states, "I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice," her voice full of arousal.

He growls low in his throat as the two of them stare at each other, he doesn't know if she hears him, but he is certain his mate did as the tall man politely inquires, "John, please can you check those flight schedules; see if I'm right?"

Turning to his laptop with a tight smile, he responds, "Uh-huh. I'm on it, yeah."

Despite the fact he is typing on the computer he keeps an eye and ear on them. Still engaged in their staring contest, his bondmate replies, "I've never begged for mercy in my life." _except from you when you're being a massive tease. _

"Twice," she repeats staring hard at him.

Ignoring the scent in the air he comments, "Uh, yeah, you're right. Uh, flight double oh seven," as he looks up at his mate.

That draws the taller man's attention and he breaks the staring contest, glancing over at him, "What did you say?"

Still watching his mate he repeats himself, "You're right."

Giving a small shake of his head, his mate queries, "No, no, no, after that. What did you say after that?"

"Double oh seven. Flight double oh seven." He repeats the second part of the original sentence and watches as his dark-haired human presses past the hybrid while thinking aloud. He can hear her fingers softly clicking at the phone she has behind her and wonders what it is. too bad he had banned their guards from being in here or he could ask whoever was on guard duty today. His bondmate however does not notice, falling into his mind as he tries to figure the answer to the question out.

After a bit he calls out mentally to Elspeth to come keep an eye on the hybrid as he slips out after mutter that he would come back in a bit. As he opens the door downstairs, the cat comes in, heading upstairs as she phases into invisibility. He heads over to Eric's house to speak with the cobra in person about the situation. While he is there Spathi continues to update him on the hybrids actions and even more so once his mate comes out of his mind after dark. When the agent shows up to take Sherlock away, he tells the cat to stay with the hybrid, he will go meet up with his bondmate before he leaves to do so. He has just reached the airport where a jumbo jet is at when Elspeth tells him that the female is on the move. Annoyed, he directs her to follow the annoying human hybrid and is surprised when she walks up behind his mate within the jet. He has parked himself to the side and back, listening to the two humans as they speak. His bondmate is confused and frustrated according to their link, he'd use his sense of smell but there are too many dead around for it to be very effective.

However he hears the just about growl as Mycroft orders the car around, and follows the three out of the jet silently, ordering Elspeth to stick with his mate, he would follow behind in wolf form. Several minutes later they are arriving at the small house that Mycroft keeps for work, not the one he really lives at. As the three of them head in, he along with the cat, sneak in between them, their movements as silent as always.

Mycroft and Irene settle at the dining table while his bondmate settles in the chair near the fireplace thinking. Silently, he settles on the arm of it, telepathically telling his mate, _I am here._

_John, she played me, did she actually succeed? _His mate responds while the other two humans talk. _I fell into her trap didn't I? Because I cracked the code out of curiosity and told her what it was._

_Mycroft had a copy of her phone with all its files, he could have done something about it, besides, Eric hacked the phone she is using while she was at the flat, the jet number she gave Moriarty was the wrong one. He did not specify which one to your idiot brother. _He replies to his mate, trying to comfort him. _I know you can break the code, think about it love, you still have a few minutes to visibly beat her at her own game. What tell has she given you? Us shifters knew the secret by scent so there is still one you could have noticed too._

He watches as his bondmates eyes widen and flicker, the thoughts going a thousand miles an hour.

"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees." The elder human brother remarks with a small bow to the hybrid female, "Nicely played."

A smirk curls her lips, as she stands and stares at the elder brother. In the air the scent of frustration, anger, satisfaction, and annoyance mingle though almost all of it is from the humans at the table, his human's scent is void of any real emotion as he thinks.

Suddenly, his dark-haired bondmate remarks, "No."

Confidences fill her voice as she queries, "Sorry?"

Turning his head with a slight smirk now curving his lips instead, his mate repeats himself, "I said no. Very, very close, but no." As he gets to his feet he continues, "You got carried away." turning fully towards the other two humans he keeps speaking as he walks directly to her, "The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much."

Her scent becomes flustered as he comes closer, but she fakes confidence as she replies, "No such thing as too much."

Still moving towards her slowly, almost as if he is hunting her his mate continues, "Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine, craving the distraction of the game, I sympathize entirely, but sentiment? Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side." _John, do not take what I am saying to heart, I would not trade what we have for anything. _He smiles like a predator at the hybrid female.

_Not to worry, I was not. I know how you were raised so I understand. _He replies to his bondmate as he watches the events unfold from his spot near the fire.

"Sentiment? What are you talking about?" she just about demands, her voice losing that edge it had held.

"You," he replies blandly, staring at her.

Smiling calmly she steps back a half a step, commenting, "Oh dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?"

His expression is bland murmurs, "No," before he reaches out and takes her wrist, stepping so their bodies are close together and leaning forward so he is speaking directly in her ear, "Because I took your pulse."

She frowns up at, confusion and terror beginning to take over her scent.

Mycroft watches from where he had stopped, his own scent is full of confusion as well, though not as much.

Still next to her ear, his bondmate continues to speak, "Elevated; your pupils dilated." He releases her hand, reaching past her to grab the phone as he keeps talking but now in his normal tone, "I imagine John Watson thinks love's a mystery to me but the chemistry is incredibly simple, and very destructive." Turning as he speak, his dark-haired human walks towards him as she follows a few steps behind. Finally his bondmate turns to face her, stating, "When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you: the combination to your safe, your measurements; but this" he pause to toss the phone in the air, flipping it, before catching it and turning it on, "this is far more intimate."

With a second beep the security screen is visible, and he continues to speaking looking her dead in the face as he types in the four numbers that will unlock it, "This is your heart. You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for but you just couldn't resist it, could you?"

Her breathing shifts to being heavier, sadness has now added itself to her scent. According to his empathy she wishes to cry but she is trying to maintain her composure.

Smiling triumphantly his bondmate continues, "I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage," he pauses for a moment watching her carefully, "Thank you for the final proof."

She grabs his hand before he enters the code, her voice soft and wobbly as she pleads with him, "Everything I said: it's not real." Swallowing hard she continues even quieter, "I was just playing the game."

Carefully pulling his hand free of her he murmurs just as softly, "I know," hitting the enter button he continues, "And this is just losing." It dings once and he turns it to her, showing her that it is now unlocked, tears run silently down her face at the realization that she has lost.

His bondmates eyes are still locked on the hybrids as he holds the phone out to his brother commenting, "There you are, brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight."

Stepping forward so he is behind the hybrid, the politician remarks, "I'm certain they will."

_I'm ready to go John, do you think I can ride on your back rather than flagging down a cab?_ His bondmate inquires as he turns to leave, commenting aloud, "If you're feeling kind, lock her up; otherwise let her go. I doubt she'll survive long without her protection."

He turns to follow his mate, pausing directly behind him at the door when Irene calls out, "Are you expecting me to beg?"

His bondmate stops moving, standing perfectly still as he calmly responds, "Yes."

For a bit she stares at him before stating, "Please," swallowing her pride she continues, "You're right," she pauses for a breath and his mate turns towards her a bit, "I won't even last six months."

In a somewhat bored tone he remarks, "Sorry about dinner."

When they get outside, his bondmate continues to walk for a bit before querying, "John?"

Appearing silently beside him, but mindful of the cameras he smiles softly at his mate and shifts, kneeling down so that the human can climb on his back before they vanish and he proceeds to run, racing through the streets. He can feel the frustration, worry, and anger as it drains out of him. They do not head directly home, instead he loops through the city streets, mindful of people, until he is sure that his bondmate is ready to go home. When he is certain the tall human is ready to go home, he turns and heads in that direction, moving with a great deal of speed.

Once home, he shifts back into his human form after his mate gets off of his back and the two of them go inside. Upon entry into the flat, he sends his thanks to Eric, apparently the cobra had understood he had not wanted the hybrids smell within the flat because it had been aired out and the bedding already washed. The only thing he could smell now was his, his bondmate, and the cobra's scent. With a soft smile he settles onto the sofa and pats the spot next to him. It is a few minutes before his bondmate joins them and the two just settle there for a good cuddle. He understands that even if his mate was not attracted to her, she had been one of the closest things to a friend he had had within the human world so this hurt to think about the fact she had willingly betrayed him and intentionally tried to crush his spirits. So he says nothing as the tall man processes, instead offering his support in the best way he can, by simply being there.


	63. Jackal-daughter

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

TsonSA: there already is one in this story though he does not flaunt it: Hyder.

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_Chapter 63  
__John's POV  
_Two weeks after the situation involving Bond Air as he thought of it in his head, his bondmate tells him before he goes to work that he has been contacted about finding a missing girl Karachi, that he will be gone for three to five days. He nods, kissing him long and passionately before biding him safe journey, not asking to go with because he has an idea what's really going on. Instead, he calls for Elspeth, happy to see she is nearby.

_Do you have any plans for the next week?_ He inquires of the multiform cat.

_**No sir, is something going on?**_ She replies quickly.

_He is planning a trip to Karachi, I have a feeling it is to assist the hybrid, go with him, protect him._ He responds, giving orders to the one person who prefers to have orders from their pack.

_**Yes sir,**__**is he getting ready to leave now?**_ she answers.

_Indeed, he is packing a small bag, I am certain he has already arranged for his transportation. _He explains, _please make sure he is careful. If he is helping the hybrid, tag her so that Tech can track her as needed. _

_**Yes sir,**_ she answers once more.

A few minutes later Sherlock gives him one last kiss before heading out the door with a promise to text him when he has time. Sighing, he finishes preparing for work and heads into the clinic. The day goes smoothly but he is surprised when he gets a text from Greg asking if they can go have drinks tonight, it's not normally one of the nights that they do so on. At the end of the shift he bids his coworkers good night before heading home to clean up.

He is just getting done doing so when the door bell rings and a moment later the silver haired detective inspector is standing in his entry way inquiring if he can come in, a bag of take-out in one hand and a box of beer. "Hey, mind if I come in? Sherlock texted me earlier and said he was going to be out of town for a few days on a missing person's case but that you had to work so you would be home. Is that really what happened?"

He smiles at the taller man, motioning to the living room as he says, "Come on in, it's a lot safer to eat in here now that almost all his experiments are held in 221C. Yeah, he's gone to do a missing person's case, at least that's what he told me before he left."

Settling onto the sofa and setting the food out in front of them on the small coffee table, the older man inquires, "Is he on his own?"

He shakes his head, before heading into the kitchen to grab plates and silverware, "Hell no, he has a protector, though he doesn't know that, she stays quiet and invisible at all times." Returning to the living room he inquires, "Was that the only reason you came over tonight?"

The detective inspector shakes his head no, opening a bottle and taking a drink before he answers, "Something is off with Charlotte, since the girls joined the pack she has been acting moody, she hasn't had a single cycle, and she says her skin feels like it is always itchy but I can never find anything that could be causing it. Right now she is over to her friend Karen's house from school, but I told her I was going to talk with you about it since you're a doctor and she doesn't want to go see her human doctor. Madeline and Sofia are over to my sister's house for the night to play with her children."

He thinks about it for a bit, before questioning, "Can you have her come here? I think I know what's wrong but I would have to examine her with iota sight to say for sure."

Before he has even finished speaking the jackal-child has pulled out his phone and is dialing on it. A moment later he is speaking with his daughter, asking her to catch a cab here as soon as she is done with her homework. When he gets off of the phone, there seems to be a lot less stress in the older man. "Thank you John, really I cannot thank you enough, I worry about my girls all the time and when this started going on but she didn't want to see a doctor, well you can understand."

Smiling, he nods, "Of course, I'd be worried to if my daughter suddenly started acting different, now let's relax while we wait, how's everything else been going?" Reaching out with his mind, he requests, _Eric please make sure its one of our cabs that picks up Greg's daughter._

_Alright,_ the cobra replies before vanishing from his mind again.

Sighing, the taller man digs into his dinner before answering, "Its been crazy at the yard, Anderson keeps trying to get the paperwork for the pups revoked and is getting pissed that its not working. Sally has actually been a lot easier to work with since the visit from Eric a few months back. I recently found out that I have two other shifters in the force that I had not realized were shifters, both approached me after last month's department meeting to introduce themselves in the shifter manner. That was a bit surreal, I have been working with Kristopher for fifteen years and never realized that he had crow in him, though it does explain why he is so good at following people even when they take to alley ways if he was doing so from the air. The other bloke, Micky, just transferred to our department three months ago from Cardiff, he didn't specify what type of shifter he was however."

From there the conversation turns to some of the different cases that they had had, the fact that there had been several criminals who had just randomly turned themselves in, along with bringing any remaining evidence of their crimes or telling them where they had occurred. After that they talk about how his daughters are adjusting to life with him and the pack. Then they move on to how his visits with Mycroft have lately been.

"You're attracted to him, am I going to end up with you as my brother-in-law in the future?" he queries playfully as he smells the slight arousal his friend is giving off.

That arousal changes to embarrassment as he mutters, "Shut up John."

Chuckling, he remarks, "You know it's all good right? I think it would be good for both of you actually, besides the two of you already act like you're going steady."

The jackal-child blushes but is saved from answering by the door bell going off.

With a smile, he gets up and goes to answer it, finding it to be the jackal-child's oldest daughter at the door. He doesn't even have to switch to iota sight to have a good idea what's going on his sense of smell tells him. She's going into a shifter's heat rather than a human's menstrual cycle. Well then, that is interesting, "Hello Charlotte, come on up," he greets the girl and motions her inside.

She nervously greets him back before heading upstairs with the backpack thrown over her shoulder. When she gets to the flat, she glances around curiously before sitting down on the sofa next to her dad.

Coming back upstairs, he closes the main door to the downstairs and settles into his armchair. "So, Charlotte, you're sixteen right?" he queries gently.

Nodding, she glances at him before looking down and answering, "Yeah," softly.

"Well since you're sixteen, if you want I can have your dad leave for a bit and we can do this privately, we can do this here and aloud, or we can do this here but use telepathy for me to tell you what's going on." He tells her before getting up to make tea while she thinks about her answer, when he is done with the teas, he carries hers and Greg's out to the living room before fetching his and settling back into his seat, "I have been a doctor for ten years, I am also a fully trained iota, so I have worked with young ladies as much as blokes."

She sips at her tea for a few minutes before saying, "It's alright if we do this with Dad here, I just," she trails off giving a shake of her head. Her scent is that of a worried person.

He smiles at her reassuringly, before finishing his tea and coming over to where she is seated to kneel carefully on the floor before her. "May I see your dominate wrist?" he murmurs.

Biting her lip, she nods, carefully pulling the sleeve to her sweater up before offering it to him. He smiles at her again, carefully unbuttoning his shirt and pressing it back to show the fern-shaped mark on his before pressing it against hers. Eyes drifting shut, he falls into his iota sight before reopening them and allowing himself to check her with his healers senses instead of his human senses.

Sure enough, her body is going through the change from human-child to shifter, her second form is trying to bring itself to the surface but she had been resisting because she was scared of the feeling it was producing. As her body goes through the transition it had went from human cycles to shifter cycles, something that is both good and bad. Past that, her body was burning away all illnesses that she had within her life and the affect effects that they had left. She was even beginning to develop a gift, though it would never be a very powerful one.

He carefully checks her bonds to each of her family members, happy to see that the ones to her sire, sisters, and paternal side are all very healthy. The bonds to her maternal side however are fading and would be gone within another two or three years, apparently they had never developed properly which said a lot about that side of her family. She also had one other tentative bond that looked like it was a ghost bond, so she had meet her bondmate then, that could be both a good and bad thing, though he did not follow it to see who it was.

Carefully pulling back into himself he allows his eyes to shut again as he returns to normal vision and releases her wrist, though he turns her arm to see if she has a small dot on the inside of her wrist. Sure enough she does, it's a silver one with a black ring around it. So it is the Shadow Mistress' choice of a bondmate then, not Dawn or Dusk.

"Well Charlotte, you're a shifter. The itchy feeling you are experience is your body trying to get you to shift. If you would like I can help you through the first few transformations so you can get a feel for it, afterwards that feeling will go away." He gently informs her before stating, "Secondly, I bet you stopped having periods just about five months ago and it scared you right?"

She nods once, biting her lip and looking down, "I was worried I was pregnant, I had only had sex once but then everything started changing and," she replies in a whisper but trails off.

Greg is staring at her though he can tell that the jackal-child is trying not to get mad.

"You're not pregnant, your body has changed its cycle to a shifter cycle however that takes time, so it is just now gearing up for your first actual heat. You will have heats like a jackal every four months or so, during which time most female shifters have told me it is better to find a willing male to pair off with. The beautiful thing about out biology is you do not have to worry about getting pregnant from anyone other than your bondmate, though that is not a reason to sleep around." He continues after a moment, moving back to his seat as he explains the situation to her. "According to the mark on your wrist you have already met your bondmate, so I need to ask if you are aware of who it is."

Her eyes go wide and she glances between her father and him questioningly. "What's a bondmate? Do you mean like yourself and the alpha-second or some of the others that seem to have close partners?"

He nods, answering, "When the Old Gods created the shifter species they gave them a gift, each shifter would have two people in the world that would be perfect for them. The first would be selected by the Dawn Son and often times reflected the more positive traits of the shifter, the mark from those bonds will always be light in coloring. The second would be selected by the Dusk Daughter and often reflected the more neutral traits of a shifter, the marks from those bonds will always be dark in coloring but not black or silver. Occasionally however the Shadow Mistress will select a mate for one of the one's she considers hers. Those marks are always silver or black." He holds up his wrist, showing the black spiral fern with the small dots surrounding the frond. "See? My bondmate was selected for me by the Shadow Mistress, as was yours according to the fact your warning dot is silver."

Biting her lip she stares at her wrist, looking at the dot like she's not sure where it came from. "This has been here since I joined the pack, I just thought it was a pack mark, Dad said I now had a pack mark."

He gives a shake of his head, "Nope, that's on the back of your neck, look at his neck if you want to see one, they will be very similar only yours will identify you as a full shifter and not a shifter-child."

She carefully peers at the back of Greg's head and neck, where the pack marks are visible at, and he leans his head down a bit so it is easier for her to see them.

"I have one of those? That's beautiful!" she remarks as she looks back at him, "You said you can help me shift?"

He smiles at her, nodding once, "I can, if you would like we can do so once tonight so you can get a feel for what your other form is like, however you will not be able to stay in it long and will need to go home when you're done in order to get some sleep."

She nods, asking, "How?"

He smiles at her, motioning for her to come over by the fire place where the floor is empty. Joining her, he carefully places his palm against her forehead, focusing for a bit before he pulls back, "Now I am going to be in your head, you're going to both feel and hear me, I will not be looking or listening to your thoughts, however I will end up taking control of your body so I can walk you through the process, alright?"

She nods excitedly, watching him closely.

_Here we go. _He begins, _now pay attention, you feel that itch just beneath your skin? _

"Yes" she replies aloud and it feels like its echoing.

_That's because it is, right now just think your answer to me and I will hear it._ There is amusement in his voice, _Anyways, that's your jackal trying to get you to let it out. Focus on that feeling. _

He can feel as her attention turns to it, _Now what?_

_Now we are going to bring it the rest of the way to the surface, your first reaction will be to panic, don't. Instead just breath steadily like when you're running alright?_

_Alright, _he feels her answer before she tries keeping herself calm.

When the tingling that signals the change begins she just about panics but at the last minute remembers his advice and starts picturing herself running. The result is, as soon as her body finishes the shift she is doing a loop around the room though it is rather wobbly since she went from two legs to four.

"My God," Greg gasps as he looks at his daughter, he had never imagined that she would be a shifter.

Her coloring is a dark brown-grey mix with golden markings on her face around her eyes and muzzle. She prances around, each time returning to her father's side and head butting him.

"She wants you to rub her fur, its rather traditional, almost all canine forms do that with their parents when they are in their shifted form, she'll do the same thing with her mate when she gets older." He chuckles, stating, "Shadow Mistress knows I do it often enough to Sherlock."

Slowly, his friend starts rubbing the area behind her ears slowly, cautiously, as if he is worried he will hurt her.

"Well come here Charlotte, time to be a human again." he tells the relaxing jackal pup who is falling asleep to her father's soft touch.

She shakes her head a bit, coming back over and he reconnects with her, A_lright, now to shift back merely think that you are human and picture yourself in the clothes you were wearing. _

She gets the picturing herself human right but blushes up a storm when she appears without her clothes on, the clothes falling to the floor beneath her. Quickly she gathers them all up staring hard at the floor.

Carefully, so not to sound like he is laughing, he tells her were the bathroom is and drapes the blanket that is normally kept on his chair around her. For a minute she remains seated before she gets up and bolts to the bathroom to get dressed, tripping twice as she does so.

"John, that was amazing. She will be able to do that on her own?" Greg asks while she is walking to the bathroom, he can tell that the older man wants to help her but doesn't say anything because he knows she'd be embarrassed.

He nods, smiling, "Yeah, she will be able to do that on her own eventually, though for a while any time she shifts, she is going to want you to touch her fur, it reaffirms the family bond, she will do the same thing with sisters as well, this upcoming new moon gathering I will check on your other two daughters to see if they will be shifters as well."

"You said she has a bondmate, do you mean like my parents? An actual true bondmate?" the older jackal-child inquires, wonder in his voice along with worry.

Again he nods, "Yep, like Sherlock and me, Daria and Nathan, and any of the other bonded couples within the pack. Depending on whom it is, they may be waiting for her to get older before approaching her or they could be waiting for her birthday before approaching you to ask for permission to court her."

"Oh," Greg replies, worry in his scent.

"Now here is some interesting things to consider, things to be careful of, now that she has shifted her senses are going to come online so to speak, her sense of smell and hearing in particular, though possibly her sense of touch as well. They might actually cause her headaches as she learns to control them, so you might have to keep her home from school a couple of days though if it lasts too long bring her back to me or take her to Daria. As the pack healers we can help," he warns the older man just before his daughter comes out of the bathroom clutching the blanket around her.

"I'm cold," she murmurs, "and tired."

"Get her home and in bed, make sure she is well covered, we can work on her shifting some more during the next pack meeting. Graduation is in a couple of day right?" he directs the other man.

Greg nods, carefully hefting his daughters backpack, before wrapping an arm around her to help support her, "Next weekend actually, this was her last week of school, she's doing her finals, next year she does her A-levels." There is obvious pride and pleasure in his friends voice over his daughters accomplishments.

"Do you know what she wants to go into?" he inquires as he walks with them out of the flat and down the road a little ways to where the car is in a parking lot.

"She said she wants to be a veterinary. I was surprised actually because I hadn't realized that she liked animals that much," he gives a little shrug continuing, "I knew she liked dogs and cats, but had not realized she like other animals all that much too."

Smiling, he comments, "Its probably her gift asserting itself, she has a very minor healing gift, its pretty common for folks with the minor version to go into some support form of the medical field whether it is for animals or people. Daria offers lessons every third Sunday, you might want to talk to her about going, I offer lessons too, but mine tend to be a bit more random and I work with the two we have that have strong healing gifts, not minor ones. I can also check the charts to see if there is anyone else in the pack or one of the allied packs that has the same type of gift as her that she could work with," he offers.

When they get to the car, he grabs the keys from Greg, unlocking the door and opening it while his friend helps his daughter in, straightening up he remarks, "That would be great if you could, I really can't believe how much your willing to do, I mean we're friends but it still seems to be a lot." Carefully the taller man shuts the door before going around to the other side, "Actually I still have a hard time with how much help the entire pack has been during this time of adjustment, its unbelievable."

"Pack takes care of each other, by tradition we are all considered one large arse family, and family is supposed to help each other. Have a great night Greg," he tells his friend as the other man gets in the car.

"Good night John, thanks again." he states before closing the door and taking off.

Ambling back to the flat, he heads upstairs and checks his phone, happy to see a message from Sherlock telling him that he had safely arrived. He also has a message from Elspeth telling him that she is still with him, but that he is currently preoccupied and thus she can send this before she switches to telepathy for all reports, they will be every six hours like when on mission unless something comes up.

Sighing, he heads in their room and stretches out on the bed. It's going to be a long couple of days without his mate.


	64. Familial Discussions

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 64  
__Greg's POV  
_He was in shock. His oldest daughter, the one he knew for a fact had only shifter-child parents, with neither parent being a full shifter was a shifter. She was a beautiful, small dark-brown and grey with golden markings on her face. Those markings look like eye shadow, blush, and lipstick the way they color her face but they are blended perfectly with the surrounding dark-brown and grey. She keeps prancing around, each time returning to push against him, in a manner very similar to the dog that they used to have.

Finally his friend tells him in an amused voice, "She wants you to rub her fur, its rather traditional, almost all canine forms do that with their parents when they are in their shifted form, she'll do the same thing with her mate when she gets older." He chuckles, stating, "Shadow Mistress knows I do it often enough to Sherlock."

The next time she prances closer, he reaches a hand out and runs it down the back of her head, his blunt fingers carefully rubbing the area directly behind her ears. She leans into his touch, and he can feel the rumble in her chest, the canine equivalent of a purr. As he feels her start to relax he realizes that she is drifting off to sleep.

Eventually John comments, ""Well come here Charlotte, time to be a human again."

A few moments later his daughter has returned to her own form though she is wearing nothing because her clothes appear beneath her. It doesn't take much to realize that she is embarrassed and he is not sure how to help her but john seems to get it. Grabbing a blanket and carefully placing around his daughter, the shorter man puts her at ease and she heads into the bathroom to get dressed again after a bit.

While she is getting dressed he discusses with John the fact she will be able to learn to shift on her own, that his friend and alpha will check his other two daughters for the shifting ability, and what to watch for to make sure that everything is alright with her. Since she only has one week left before she goes on summer break for a few weeks. She should have plenty of time to adjust to her new abilities hopefully. When she comes back out of the bathroom, she is cold and tired, and John walks with him back to the car. With the two of them discussing her minor gift and the possibility of training for her.

Once in the car he carefully drives to the new house, still in shock over the fact that Eric had handed over such a nice house and car as if it was nothing. What type of home must he live in to feel that way? Why was the Watson wolf pack so different from the Hayes jackal pack he had been born to? It was something he was still trying to understand.

Upon getting home, he helps his daughter up to her room, setting the book bag just inside her bedroom door before going and showering to head to bed himself.

In the morning he makes breakfast before work for him and school for Chare. Just as he gets done cooking she comes downstairs, dressed for school and carrying her pack.

"Morning Dad," she murmurs, "breakfast smells great, is it sausages and cheese eggs?" she inquires as she walks into the room before she actually looks over to what he is cooking. "Did I really turn into a jackal last night?"

He smiles at her, nodding, "You did indeed Chare, a beautiful jackal of dark-brown and grey with adorable golden markings on your face. If I hadn't been in awe I would have taken a picture of your first transformation. Tonight when you get done with school we need to have a conversation."

She nods slowly, looking nervously at the floor.

"You're not in trouble, we just need to talk," he tells her, understanding why she is worried.

Again she nods, but she seems to relax at that and the two of them share an ease breakfast. Once done with that he takes her to school before heading to work. Surprisingly enough the day goes rather smoothly, by time he gets off work and collects his daughter from her after school program. When they get home he starts making dinner while his oldest daughter does her homework. Her sisters will be home in a bit. His sister Audrey was bringing his other two daughters when they were done with swimming lessons and spending time at her house. He had asked her to do so, so he would have a chance to talk with Chare.

"You just about done with your homework?" he inquires as he sets the last pan in the stove.

She nods, "Just have one last problem to do. Since they have us doing finals this week, homework has actually been pretty light."

He grabs a pair of cups and pours some ice tea for both before sitting down to wait. A few minutes later she is packing her stuff back into her bag.

"Done now, you wanted to talk?" she comments, sitting back down and grabbing the cup, "Thank you."

"Charlotte, you've had sex already?" he asks, not even working into the subject, just asking what is on his mind.

She blushes, looking down and nodding, "Yes Dad," she murmurs.

"Look at Charlotte," he directs her, waiting until she does so to continue, "It's not a bad thing for you to explore that part of your nature. I grew up in a shifter household, you heard what John said, a female shifters heats are easier with a partner, however you have to, have to, have to make sure that it is a shifter that you're taking to your bed. Do you know if the young man you had sex with is a shifter?"

She shakes her head, replying softly, "I dunno, I never thought to ask, Mom got so mad at me. I didn't want to tell you in case you got mad too."

Reaching over he squeezes her hand, "No sweetie, I'm not mad, I just want you to be really careful. There are several full shifter males of your age in the pack, perhaps you can come to an agreement with one of them," he suggests, while the idea of his little girl being sexually active is something he does not appreciate from his time in the human world, his shifter upbringing makes it an acceptable practice as long as it is done safely. That means with another shifter or quasi-shifter who would not get her pregnant or give her some type of illness.

For a long minute she stares hard at him before asking, "Are you sure Dad? I really don't want to disappoint you."

He smiles at her and nods, "I'm sure," the relief in her eyes is noticeable and he doesn't need the shifters ability to smell things to know she is happy to hear that. "Now then, John has suggested that you get training for your emerging shifting abilities and your gift. The question is, do you want to do so with the other pups working on theirs or would you rather apprentice?"

"They still do apprenticeships?" she inquires curiously.

He nods, "Yeah, according to John they do, I didn't qualify for pack training so I don't know personally. He said he would have a list of people with similar gifts to yours that you could train with at the new moon meeting, so you have a couple of days. Apparently you have a minor healing gift." He knows his voice is full of pride, "Just consider what you want to do with yourself and if you would rather a class teaching you to use your abilities or a person."

She nods and before she can answer he hears his sisters car pulling up, her sisters are home. Now to tell his sister the remarkable news, that somehow his daughter was a shifter. He's just getting ready to go to the door when his phone buzzes, checking it he is surprised to see that it is a picture of Charlotte from the night before right after she had turned into a jackal for the first time.

oOo

_Eric's POV  
_In the six months since the annoying incident as he referred to what happened at the January new moon pack gathering his son had found a small two room flat closer to the university that he was considering going to. He had considered arguing with the younger shifter, trying to talk him into staying but knew that was not a wise idea on several different levels. Aidan had moved out because he had been aware of how difficult things were on him and the fact he wanted his own territory. While he had not liked the idea of him being in a human owned flat, he had understood his need for space. Despite the fact that they lived in different housing, they often had dinner together at his house since he enjoyed cooking a variety of foods and Aidan was due shortly.

Sure enough, not five minutes after he got dinner into the oven, his son was walking into the house, calling out a greeting before he got to the door with his mind. Aidan had discovered early on it was not a good idea to startle him.

"How was your day?" he inquires as the younger shifter enters the kitchen, setting a bottle of something down on the table as he does so.

"Long," the younger man replies, "I hadn't realized how tiring it is to sit in a room full of humans thinking so loudly while trying to take a test. On the plus side, I am fairly certain I passed all of the and now have all the required paperwork ready to go to the university in the fall."

He nods once, asking, "Have you decided on a course of study?"

"One of the social sciences, I think, maybe duel major in psychology and sociology, I prefer to do my computer work with you rather than outsiders. They do not need to know what I can do with a computer," the younger cobra answers.

For a few minutes they are silent as the food cooks, when he is getting ready to pull it out of the oven Aidan sets the table so that all they have to do is serve themselves and sit down. Once the two of them have their plates, they settle into their spots and talk about how things had been since the last time they had dinner three days earlier.

"I have a silver and black dot on my left wrist," his son eventually remarks, flipping his wrist so that the mark is visible. "If I am not mistaken that is a Shadow Mistress selection of a bondmate. Apparently I have three then."

Eighteen, his mind supplies, he's eighteen. That's too young. Giving a light shake of his head, he clears his thoughts, not really, most shifters are happy when they know who their bondmate is at eighteen. Cobra's even have long traditions regarding the courting of bondmates. Too bad coral snakes do not have the same traditions. Internally sighing, he queries, "Do you know who?"

After taking a few bites of his food, Aidan replies, "I think it is the jackal-child Charlotte Lestrade, daughter of the jackal-child Gregory Lestrade. She is the only new person I have touched in recent months and it appeared shortly after the first time I touched her."

Silence falls as he considers this. Gregory Lestrade, human jackal-child, divorced of the human jackal-child Crystal Reeve, father of daughters Charlotte, Madeline, and Sofia, with Sofia actually being a bond-daughter not a blood daughter. Raised in a traditional jackal house hold, which means customs very similar to those of the cobra. Recently Charlotte had presented as a shifter, jackal like both her parents bloodlines of a dark-brown and gray with golden markings according to the memory John had shared with him. She was interested in animals and had a minor healing gift. Where her father had been raised in a traditional jackal household, her mother had maintained a more human household and probably was unaware of a great many of the shifter traditions.

"The jackal child is an alright person, he never officially got permission to work in the career path he is on, however John has given him retrograde permission. His daughter is a hard worker from my understanding, recently developed the ability to shift, though she is still unused to doing so." He eventually remarks, again the both of them are quiet for a bit before he asks, "Do you have plans regarding her?"

A light blush colors his son's cheeks, "I looked up when her birthday is, after she turns seventeen I wish to approach her sire and ask permission to formally court her." He glances at his food for a moment before looking back up, "I might have been raised in a coral snake house but I still have the cobra memories and traditions that I inherited. Apparently I have a minor mnemonic gift so there are certain traditions and such that I recall if they have been repeated through several generations." He shrugs, "I guess that was the gift I developed instead of Sight."

He nods, several of his cousins, along with one of his aunts had had the mnemonic gift rather than vision. It was a trait from his father's side where the Sight had been from his mother's side.

"Just be sure before you make a choice, do not rush into anything." He warns the younger cobra.

Aidan smiles at him nodding, he understands that it was permission to court her that he had just received and the subject slowly drifts into other matters. His son is considering buying a property in order to make his own permanent home for when he is done with the university. They also discuss the fact that Zara is coming for a visit the following month.

oOo

_John's POV  
_Four days after his night with Greg and his daughter his bondmate gets home. Between when he left and when he got home, Elspeth had checked in with him seventeen times. Sixteen times as required, and once to bitch that his mate reminded her of Tech only not as fast or deadly. She also confirms that he has saved the hybrid from being beheaded and had beheaded several of the terrorists who had captured her before faking her death with another woman who is already dead. The first thing his bondmate does when he gets home is shower before he comes and crashes in bed with him, snuggling up close to him and falling asleep almost as soon as his curly head was on his shoulder. Smiling, he reaches over to grab his phone, calling Sarah and telling her he won't be able to cover that afternoon shift after all.

Eventually he wiggles himself out of his bondmates hold in order to go use the bathroom, make tea and breakfast. A little while later, just as he is getting ready to make the plates to take into the bedroom his bondmate comes out, dressed only in his pants and a house robe.

"Hello love, how was your trip?" he inquires as he makes the plates.

The tall human, settles into a chair at the table, blinking at him for a moment before he replies, "Successful."

He nods, "Here's some breakfast for you, I am sure you did not eat enough while you were gone. Now do you care to tell me why you were really in Karachi?" he queries as he sets the plate with a hot tea next to it down in front of his bondmate.

Sherlock's head jerks up and he stares at him in shock, not touching his breakfast.

"I'm not dumb Sherlock. I am part of a group of highly trained military shifters who are not your run of the mill types. Did you really think I would not realize why you were there?" he questions as he sits down and starts to eat his breakfast.

"I…" his bondmate begins but quickly trails off. He can smell the nervousness and worry in the air, along with the sorrow. "I didn't think you'd understand. I know you don't like her but..." again his voice trails off as he tries to figure out how to explain himself.

Sighing, he finishes his breakfast, but also urges his mate to do the same, "Come on love eat up"

While his bondmate picks at his breakfast he considers how best to explain this to the tall human. Once they are both done he goes to settle on the sofa, patting the area next to him and beckoning for his bondmate to join him. It is a few minutes before he does so but eventually the taller man curls himself against his side, head resting on his shoulder while he has his arms wrapped around him.

"Listen love, I might not have liked her, hell I considered ripping her throat out every time she touched you in a familiar way or handing her over to Eric so he could rip her mind to shreds but I also understood she was something like a friend to you. Had you asked for help saving her, one of the military pack could have helped you." he pauses for a moment, considering how to word it, "I wish you understood that I will support no matter what and would have trusted me enough to be honest."

"I didn't lie!" he quickly exclaims, twisting around to face him, eyes wide with worry.

Giving a small shake of his head he remarks, "But you did, it was a lie of omission but still a lie. A strong relationship cannot have lies Sherlock. If you feel uncomfortable telling me something, then tell me you do not want to talk about it, but don't lie to me."

Sherlock curls against him, ducking his head down and pressing close rather than replying. For a bit the two of them stay like that, then he hears an almost silent, "I'm sorry John," from his bondmate. His scent is full of sadness and worry, even fear.

He kisses the top of his bondmates dark curls, and just holds him, not saying anything more. He knows that in the past asking for help had nearly always ended badly for his bondmate, so the dark-haired human had gotten into the habit of never asking, of disguising his actions. Even now when he had just over a year's worth of support from him and the pack it did not override all the previous years of not getting that support.

"Just promise me you will try to remember to talk with me in the future when something like that comes up." he eventually requests.

"I swear John, I didn't mean to lie to you, I really didn't." his bondmate quickly replies, his scent sincere.

"Alright, now how would you like to spend the day?" he agrees, allowing the subject to be dropped though he is sure they will end up having this discussion or one like it at least one more time.


	65. Reflections and Considerations

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

So this chapter might seem a little bit all over the board, all I would like to say is remember it is an teenage boys thoughts, not really all that organized.

Warning: this chapter vaguely refers to the abuse of the a child.

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_Chapter 65  
__Jace's POV  
_When looking back at the last year there were times he could hardly believe he was the same person who had timidly approached the alpha of a famous wolf pack in order to ask for a place as an omega. Back then he had not expected anything to come of his request except maybe he would be laughed at. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that he would end up with a home, family, friends, or pack. That his ability to shift would be unlocked or that he would be allowed to learn, both mundane subjects and how to control his gifts.

Those first few months had been extremely hard on him. The desire to submit to every single thing his new mother had wanted had occasionally caused problems because he did so without thinking, without complaint, even on things that she thought that he should complain about. How could he explain that his life was unbelievable now? That the things that she asked were easy to consider and do. It had taken showing her his memories before she had finally understood and even then she had been furious.

At first he had thought she was mad at him, then had come the events when he had been taken by his birth pack, the pack that refused to claim him but kept him around as a toy and punching bag. He had been very surprised when the pack had showed up for him, even more surprised at how quickly they had reacted. That fury he had felt in his bondmother was finally directed somewhere and those who it touched paid a high price, their minds ripped to shreds. Through it he had been supported by both of his bondparents and the cobra within their pack.

In the months following he had slowly adjusted to his life. Never before had he been allowed a room to himself yet now he had a rather big one full of things that were purely his. To sleep on a bed had taken some adjusting as well since previously he had only been allowed to sleep on the floor or wherever he was thrown when whoever felt the need to hurt him had finished. There had been several times where his bondmother had come to comfort him, and twice where she had called the cobra to comfort him because she was not able to. Not that he understood at that point why he was comforted by the presence of the cobra.

Eventually he had gotten past that, though he knew that a large part of that was the mindhealing that his bondmother, the pack alpha, and the cobra had all taken turns doing.

Then had come his education. He was far behind what most pups his age could do in pretty close to all subjects. It was something that had made him feel hopeless yet now he was nearly ahead of most the pups that had gone to school continuously. Why? Because the pack's only small shifter Mouse had taken the time to teach him. Carefully going over the information that he had already known and then slowly adding to it. At least it felt slow to him despite the fact he knew otherwise, after all he completed almost ten years worth of studying over the course of one year. She had asked him at the offset what he wanted to do with his life but he had been unable to answer then, to unsure of himself and his abilities to do so.

Now he knew exactly what he wanted to do with himself. He wanted to have a mate of his own, children, and be trained as a healer, possibly even as a doctor so he could treat more than just shifters.

So everything he has studied in the last three months has been with that goal in mind. As soon he had told her that in a bashful way she had shifted their curriculum to be more science heavy. She was determined to help him with that goal, making sure that he was learning everything he would need for when he sat his various exams he was going to have to do in order to get into university to get a degree in medicine. Once he had gotten past the basics he had started training with his bondmother as well, though she had stated he was a stronger healer and would do better with their pack elder that occasionally did lessons on the fly.

Occasionally the word used by the pack members would confuse him. Since their pack was a mixture of species, it meant that a mixture of terms were used regularly. Depending on who he was speaking to, they would refer to the pack as a pack, den, nest, coop, or clan. Alpha was used interchangeably with elder. Senior was used interchangeably with beta. Healer was used by several of the members without specifying what type. Did they mean iota, omicron, or those rare people with both? Though no one wants to talk about them, something he really doesn't understand. All of these he had quickly adjusted to but there were those who also mixed the terms and that's where he really ran into problems, it was a good thing he preferred to be quiet or he would be forever asking for clarification.

There were also the wide variety of customs that seem to fill the pack, each coming from the wide variety of species within the pack. Though the primary customs where those of the wolves since the pack is primarily wolf. Still they were nothing like the c0ustoms he had grown up with, something at he was extremely happy about. He was learning the customs that went with his bondfamily, sometimes surprised at how traditional the vipers he lived with were in many ways but weren't in others. According to his bondmother the most traditional person was also the one who tended to break traditions in the form of the older cobra.

Stretching out on his bed, he stares at the ceiling as he continues to allow his thoughts to switch between topics.

Cobras, when he had first joined the pack there had been a single cobra, a beautiful man with obsidian eyes and scale gracing his ivory skin. From the first he had found him attractive, hard not to really. But he was terrifying as well. There was a coiled deadliness that no one else in the pack matched. He appeared to be the same age as him so it had been a shock to the system when he had discovered he was really in his thirties. Then the second one had appeared and he hadn't understood why he found attraction in the older one but not in the younger even though they were identical except for the eyes, the younger cobra had silver eyes instead of black ones. Still it was the older one who caught his attention.

When he had finally got the nerve to ask his bondmother why he would catch his attention she had sighed, telling him that there was a connection there though the type was yet to be seen. She had not sounded happy with the idea, but then she was not a fan of the older cobra for reasons known only to her.

He hadn't been able to ask her what the different types of bonds where. Instead he had ended up asking the pack's omicron Jeffery during one of the new moon meetings what all types of connections there were between shifters. The older wolf had explained that there were six types of bond. The first is the family bond, the bond between parent and child, brother to brother, sister to sister, brother to sister. Second is the secondary family bond, that between cousins, aunts and uncles to nieces and nephews, grandparents to grandchildren, and any other not single generation divide. Third was the bond between protector and protected. Fourth bond is that between teacher and student. The fifth bond is that between friends or that between enemies, recognized as equally important bonds, one that supports and one that can destroy or cause adversary. The sixth and final bond is the bond between bondmates. For many the bond between mates was considered as important or even more important than the bond between parent and child. Probably because it was the only bond that was formed by the Old Gods.

Again he moves, his thoughts making him uncomfortable as he shifts how he is laying. Focusing for a moment, he shifts forms happy that his bed is big enough to accommodate his rather large wolf form which he had been told would actually get bigger still. So instead he curls up in his bed as a wolf and continues the line of thought.

According to the wolf omicron he had already come in contact with his bondmate however he had never touched them skin to skin. Apparently to touch a piece of the animal form would form a base bond without showing a mark. So he had carefully considered all of the shifters he knows and had met. Among his birth pack they had not cared whether their skin had touched him or not so he knew that it was none of them. Then among his new pack pretty much all of them use their skin only except for one. The older cobra.

Carefully he had fallen into his power the way that his bondmother had shown him. once inside the gift, he had felt out his bonds. First connecting to his bondmother and bondfather, then to the small life within his bondmother, his to be bondsister. From there he traced the next link, the one to his birth mother though that one is just about gone, she is just about dead. That is one bond he expects to vanish sooner than later. Then he follows the pack bond, it leads directly to Alpha John and his bondmate Alpha-second Sherlock, from them he can trace the rest of the pack. Backtracking he goes to the last link he can feel, it's really nothing more than a shadow bond, even less than the one connecting him to his birth mother. It takes him a few moments to trace it and he is startled when it comes to the older cobra once more.

Once he has traced the link he returns to himself, staring at his paws as he lays on his bed questioning why the cobra make sure never to touch his skin. But then, from what he had seen the older cobra made it a point to never touch anyone. Perhaps the reason was he did not want the connections that actual touch could otherwise caused. From what he had seen of him, he massively disliked other people, the only people he seemed to willingly be around were the alpha, alpha-second, his son, and the young pups under ten years old.

Shifting back to his human form he gets up to pace around his room a bit before crashing back on the bed to consider everything he knows.

The older cobra had been through a bad bonding, unlike wolves, cobras could bond more than once. His first bonding had been far too early from what he understood and had produced at least two children. Perhaps the reason he was avoiding any sort of connection was he did not want to risk going through that type of heartache again. That could be a problem though, because he found himself fixed on the cobra. He was beautiful, smart, and protective. He loves pups. Really, besides the rather short fuse he had seen anytime someone had threatened him, he was a really good candidate for a bondmate.

Oh shit. Had he really selected? If he had that could be a problem because he was a wolf, a wolf's bondmate was for life. What if the cobra was never open to the idea? Then what would he do? Well all that meant is he had to figure out how to be a good bondmate. How to get the cobra to want him as a bondmate. Perhaps it would be a good idea to talk with his son and maybe the alpha, they seemed to be the people who are closest to him.

Finally he had found a comfortable way to lie and smiled up at the ceiling.

A plan of action, that's what he needed. That was alright, he had spent the last year changing from the pup he had been to the one he was now. He still had bad days where the past would come back to bite him but those were less and less. For the most part he was adapting to living in a situation that was far different from the one he had been born to. If he could overcome the problems he had, there was no reason this would not work. Hopefully he could convince his bondmother to support the choice despite her dislike of the older cobra.

He'd figure it out, the wolf inside insisted on it.


	66. Determining Gifts

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

So this would have been posted yesterday but I sort of hurt my hand Friday and had to wait in order to type properly again. I am just about done with the next chapter which is a bit longer to make up for the fact that this is the shortest chapter in the story, hope everyone enjoys.

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_Chapter 66  
__John's POV  
_The new moon pack meeting at the beginning of July was on a Friday. It was probably a good thing since besides the birthdays, Aunt Sandra had also decided to throw a celebration for all of the pups who had graduated or moved onto the next grade. She was thrilled that the pack was thriving and wanted to promote that even further. Since it was a weekend, all of the younger members of the pack were invited to stay for lessons and to visit. Some of the different adults would be offering varying lessons, including basic first aid with Daria, shifting guidance with him, self defense with Eric or Mouse, a reading program with Melisa, and lessons in tracking from Trace.

The first thing he had done after they had gotten done with all of the celebrations, he had found Greg with his daughters over with his aunt and had gone to say hello. Charlotte had already asked if she could join those working on their shifting earlier in the evening.

"Hello Greg, Charlotte, Madeline, and Sofia. How are you all tonight?" he greets them.

"Hello John. It's been an interesting night so far. How are you?" the jackal-child inquires in response.

He smiles, "It's been good." He glances at the jackal-daughter, "Ready to work on your shifting some more?"

She smiles shyly nodding.

"What about you two? Do you want to find out if your shifters?" he inquires glancing between the middle and youngest of his friend's daughters.

The younger girl started bouncing, her eyes full of excitement, "I wanna know! I wanna know!" she exclaims happily, "How do you know?"

He smiles at her excitement, setting his left hand carefully against her forehead and closing his eyes for a moment to switch sight types. Once he has his iota sight instead of normal sight he reopens them, carefully checking her over. Carefully he looks at how she is developing and his smile grows a bit more.

"Well Sofia, you're going to be able to turn into a jackal when you're a bit older, though you do not seem to have any of the special talents from either bloodline." He tells the young girl.

"I'm going to be like my big sister!" she exclaims and dances around, her voice sing-songy and high pitched. Happily, she takes off towards the other pups of her age, happily announcing along the way, "I'm going to be a shifter!"

Turning to face his friend's middle daughter he inquires, "Would you like to know if you are a shifter?""

She nods, her eyes wide, "I would," she replies her voice low. It is actually the first time he had heard her speak and he realized that she had a bit of a lisp.

Carefully looking at her he checks for the markers at determine whether a person will be a shifter or not and discovers that she does not have the actual shifter trait. He carefully checks to see if it is dormant or not actually there. She completely lacks that shifter gene, nowhere in her can he find it. What he finds instead is rather startling, she has the gifted gene instead and it is even coming active. As her gifts come into awakening she will have full range telepathy, empathy, minor abilities in all four elemental kinesis, and minor abilities in all types of Sight.

Shifting back to normal vision, he tilts his head to the side, murmuring, "Well that was unexpected."

"John?" his friend questions.

"Let's go to the house, I think this is going to require tea while we discuss it." he suggests, motioning to the house. _Eric I believe your assistance will be needed. _

_Alert me when it is, I am enjoying the hatchlings._ Comes the cobra's reply.

So the three of them head inside, they do not worry about the fact that Sofia is outside, there are other children around plus plenty of adults who keep an eye out on all pups. When they get inside, he leads them to the kitchen where he sets about making tea. While he does that Greg and Madeline take a seat at the small table and wait patiently. The jackal-child's scent is curious but not concerned. His daughter on the other hand smells heavily of worry and a bit of fear and depression. Once the tea is done, he passes them out to the other two before sitting down with his.

"So, Madeline, you're not a shifter, you don't even carry the shifter gene." He tells the young girl.

"That means that Daddy isn't my daddy," she whimpers, tears welling up.

He gives a shake of his head, "It means nothing of the sort. Your sire is still your sire. It was an acknowledge fact before you joined the pack that he was probably your bondfather rather than blood father, that is immaterial. Do you feel as if he is not your dad?"

She shakes her head, "He's always been my Daddy," she quickly replies.

"Then nothing changes, now then," he turns his attention back to both of them rather than just her, "Now what is unique about you Madeline, is the fact you are not human."

She looks at him with confusion clearly written in her face and scent. "But you just said I'm not a shifter or a shifter-child."

He smiles reassuring at her, "You're not, you're Gifted. Heavily Gifted actually. One of the Gods would have had to have blessed the union because nearly no Gifted would sleep with a shifter-child that they could tell was a shifter-child." He offers his left wrist, bondmark up.

She stares hard at him for a bit before pulling the sleeve of her long sleeve up and offering her wrist in return.

Focusing on his thera gift, he follows the innate bond that all shifters and gifted have with the Old Gods. Carefully checking her, he finds her Goddess touch within moment. He's only mildly surprised to see that she has been blessed by both the Dusk Daughter and the Shadow Mistress. It had been the Dusk Daughter that had allowed a child of mixed blood to be conceived according to the fact that the older touch of power is from her. The full awakening of her gifts had not started until she joined the pack at which point she must have come to the Shadow Mistress' attention. How very interesting. Sending up his thanks for allowing him to see the connections, he releases his focus and lets loose her arm.

Smiling at her gently, he comments, "You are going to be rather powerful. Though, you are the first true Gifted to be within any sort of pack within the last five hundred years to my knowledge." He pauses, taking a sip of his tea and allowing her to consider it for a bit before continuing, "There is only one person in the pack who is even remotely qualified to train you, and you will need to be trained, otherwise your gifts could come to rule you rather than you controlling them."

"Who?" she hesitantly asks.

"Eric, better known as Tech or Cobra, is a fully Blessed Tracker. His gifts are the closest to yours within the pack. He is also the one most able to adapt to other types of gifts outside our normal gifts." He tells the younger girl.

"Would he train her?" Greg inquires after a moment.

_Of course I would, I like nestlings, children. Besides, as one who serves the Mistress of Shadows, I appreciate the idea of a mixing of the species. _The tall cobra replies as he enters the room. _I could feel the power surge when you were testing her. _

Both Greg and Madeline stare at the tall cobra in shock as he settles himself against the counter, leaning with one hip.

"Well, I will leave it to you all to figure out a schedule for training and such." He murmurs before heading back outside.

Once he was outside he stopped to speak with each of the younger shifters to see which ones would like assistance with their shifting before finding a nice open area to do so. Of those to join him, Jace and Charlotte were the oldest, while the youngest were around ten. Since the shifting ability can become active at any point between the ages of six and seventeen that wasn't really a surprise. Jace was there more for the fact of he was trying to figure out how to turn into his lynx form and kept running into a wall. Charlotte was there because she didn't want to go to her aunts for help, preferring to work with the person who helped her shift in the first place according to the thoughts he picked up from her. Most of the others where there because their parents had thought it a good idea for them to practice with the alpha that just happened to be a healer too. After all, it was possible to get stuck between forms or to accidently mis-shift thus having a healer around while doing so meant they could get safe practice in. For a while their group continues but it slowly breaks apart after an hour or so, though he gets a real kick out of watching the various pups with their multiple hues of furs as they play together.

Charlotte manages to shift into a jackal on her own after her fourth try, though it is not all that easy and requires being walked through the process to begin with. Luckily enough, shifting back is rather simple for her, leaving her with just the one direction she has problems with. Still by the time she's got it figured out she goes seeking her father in canine form, happily sprinting away with her focus elsewhere.

Jace on the other hand gets the shift down after his first assisted attempt, apparently he just needed someone else to help him unlock it before he was able to do so on his own. With a mischievous smile he requests help with turning into a crow, and once the two have unlocked that as well, he takes the time to see if he can hybrid the forms, discovering it really does not work out well since his crow form is not elite and thus does not have the super big wings to carry his feline or canine form. When he freeform shifts he ends up becoming a mix between the wolf and lynx with the more canine body but fur patterning and tail like a cat.

When he is done with that he drifts between groups of people, visiting with them and working on strengthening the pack bond. It is rather late by the time everyone starts to head home for the night, though he is thankful that most clean up after themselves so that when he finally corals his bondmate for going home they are not leaving a mess for his aunt. By the time they actually get home it is fairly early in the morning and he is rather happy that he does not have to work the next day or things would be a bit of a pain.

Instead they spent the day after the new moon meeting relaxing and just having a lie in for the most part. His bondmate did spend some time in the lab but not a lot. Instead the taller man had decided it was a day for cuddling and with the weather being stormy like it was, he tended to agree.


	67. Arriving in Grimpen Village

This chapter is dedicated to Precious, a beautiful cat who got sick and died far too soon in her young life.

Sorry it took me an extra day to update, after having one of my babies get ill and pass away in far too short a time frame, I was not in the typing mood yesterday.

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

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_Chapter 67  
__John's POV  
_A few more weeks pass in relative ease with both continuing the patterns that they had developed. He had returned home from the clinic one day to discover that all of his things had been moved to the downstairs bedroom in the exact same order as they had been upstairs. With a smile he had kissed his bondmate long and hard, understanding that it was his way of saying that they didn't have to be a secret any more. A few days after that he had been on his way home when it started to rain, sighing, he had decided not to shift and return home as a wolf, he would just deal with the wet clothes.

As he was nearing his flat and the small café next door he was startled to spot his bondmates brother waiting outside beneath his umbrella, file in his grasp, brief case at his feet, and smoking. Since when did Mycroft smoke? He wonders as he glances at the taller man.

With a slightly sarcastic smile, he comments, "You don't smoke," to the taller man through narrow eyes.

After taking one last drag on it, he drops it on the ground and uses his toe to put it out as he remarks, "I also don't frequent cafés." Turning, the ginger-haired human closes his umbrella as he scoops up his brief case and heads inside Speedy's.

"You should you know, frequent cafés that is," he suggests to the taller man as he follows him inside.

Once inside the two of them get a seat with the politician choosing to have his back to the wall while he sits ever so straight and observes him. A small part of him considers reminding the arrogant human that he is an alpha wolf but he quickly squashes that idea, knowing it really isn't a good one. Instead he motions to the hostess and gives her a quick smile, knowing she will understand the request for tea, which she does. After she sits his tea down, he thanks her softly before looking at the plastic envelop that the politician had set in the table between them.

A quick glance at it tells him it is the file on that annoying hybrid, however to be polite he queries, "This the file on Irene Adler?"

Lifting his head and smiling tightly the human replies, "Closed forever." Before looking down at it and continuing, "I am about to go and inform my brother," he nods towards him, "or, if you prefer, you are – that she somehow got herself into a witness protection scheme in America. New name, new identity. She will survive, and thrive, but he will never see her again."

Keeping his features neutral, he gives a small shake of his head as he inquires, "Why would he care?" Locking eyes with the other man he continues, "He despised her at the end. Won't even mention her by name, just 'The Woman'."

He takes a sip of his tea while he waits for the other man's response. He already knows something that the politician does not. That his bondmate had saved the bloody hybrid and that Spathi had tagged her with a special nano-chip to track her. Whatever the politician thought he knew was going to be vastly wrong.

"Is that loathing or a salute? One of a kind; the one woman who matters." He can smell the frustration pouring off of the taller man as he comments.

With a small, tight smile of his own, he does not respond to the obvious bating, he has no reason to. Instead he remarks, "He's not like that," leaving the statement of what he was like open for suggestion or interpretation.

Leaning forward and looking down at the folder the ginger-haired human remarks, "My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher," he glances back up shrugging a little as he does so, "yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?"

"Plenty," he replies with a smile, "Do recall I am not as unassuming as you seem to think."

"Oh," the taller man blinks at him, before smiling humorlessly and commenting, "Initially he wanted to be a pirate."

For a time neither speaks, he watches as the tall man seems to think fondly of the past before his expression becomes distant and reflective, as if realizing something he wish he hadn't.

Since he knows that the taller man is lying, he glances down at the folder and states, "He'll be okay with this witness protection, never seeing her again. He'll be fine."

"I agree," the other man pauses to take a deep breath before explaining, "That's why I decided to tell him that."

Curious to know what the politician does not want to tell him he asks, "Instead of what?"

With the politician mask firmly in place the other man replies, "She's dead. She was captured by a terrorist cell in Karachi two months ago and beheaded."

For a few moments he just stares at him, he is really trying not to laugh because apparently his bondmate had pulled a fast one on his brother. However because he wants to know if the taller man is telling what he thinks is the truth he queries, "It's definitely her? She's done this before."

A predators look colors the taller man's eyes, and his scent is full of honest as he answers, "I was thorough," he nods once, "this time. It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me, and I don't think he was on hand, do you?"

Swallow reflexively a few times to keep form correcting him, he waits to see what the taller man wishes to suggest.

Finally, the ginger-haired human begins, "So," before using both hands to push the folder forward, "what should we tell Sherlock?"

Again he swallows reflexively before answering that they should go with the politicians plan. After all, neither of them wishes to bother Sherlock with the truth of her death. Though he knows for a fact it really isn't the truth. Just as they finish their conversation, the politician's phone goes off and he walks upstairs with the folder in hand.

When he enters the flat, he finds his bondmate over at the laptop looking at the screen, glancing up the taller human spots the folder and comments, "If it's about the Leeds triple murder, it was the gardener. Nobody noticed the earring."

Giving a small shake of his head he replies, "Hi. Er, no, it's, um," before stepping further into the room, "it's about Irene Adler."

That catches his mates attention because he stands, coming over to him and querying as he walks, "Has she come back?"

He smiles at the taller man, remarking, "No, she's, er," he pauses not sure how to continue because he knows that the older brother is mistaken, "I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs. He had to take a call."

His bondmate merely raises an eyebrow at him.

Chuckling he finally comments, "According to your brother she has gone to America to be in the witness protection program. Though we both know otherwise, yes?"

A small smirk curves his lovers lips as he replies, "Yes," stepping forward the dark-haired human tilts his head a bit questioning, "What does he think really happened to her?"

He smirks back, "Well you know, Karachi and all that," a small chuckle escapes, "he commented that only you could fool him, I think I should introduce him to my team when they are in a mood. They could probably do the same when they want to." He pauses offering the folder to the taller man, "Do you wish to look at it?"

With a shake of his head, his bondmate simply replies, "No, but I will take the camera phone."

He nods once, fishing it out before handing it over, "Well I better take this back to him," he remarks about the remainder of the folder before heading downstairs to hand it back to Mycroft without a word. When he gets back upstairs, his bondmate is standing by the window with a vague smile on his face.

The rest of the day goes smoothly, with both just sort of relaxing around the house.

oOo

Nearly two weeks later, and several minor cases included before the next actual case comes in. However during that time he manages to catch a ride on the tube wearing bloody clothes and carrying a harpoon, insult Mrs. Hudson, and go a bit stir crazy because he has finally agreed to stop smoking and using the patch. So when the doorbell goes off and both proclaim it is a client, his bondmate bolts to the room to change out his dressing gown for a coat while he goes and lets the person at the door in.

The young man at the door smelled heavily of fear and sadness, in his hand is a small case with a DVD according to the label on it. He was of average size and build with short cropped hair and ears that stuck out way too much. Motioning him to follow, he heads up stairs to find his bondmate in his seat, so he has the young man sit in his, while he sits in the computer seat. They watch part of the DVD for a bit before his bondmate turns it off and starts questioning the younger man.

The scent in the room fills with the younger man's sadness and remembered fear and he wishes that he was a dark empath for just a moment rather than a regular empath as the emotions bombard him. Normally people's emotions do not have this big of an effect on him so he narrows his eyes and sends his empathy seeking an answer. As soon as he has connected he gets it. Someone has been playing with his genetic code and make up, past that, there are clear signs of gift manipulation which is illegal for shifters and gifted alike on a human. He is rather pleased when his bondmate accepts the case without any prompting from him.

With narrow eyes he sends out a text to those of the military pack only.

-Pack light, we have a situation to deal with.- JW

-Sir.- all of them reply.

-Grimpen Village. Tomorrow at water watch.- JW

-Sir.- they reply again.

After that he takes the time to pack a quick bag, making sure to grab both of his ID cards, the one for standard ops and the one for special ops. Before they leave the flat he turns to look at his bondmate commenting, "You have twenty-fours to figure out what's going on with Baskerville. Then we're dealing with it."

"John?" his bondmate curiously queries.

"Someone has been using the gifts on that boy for years. Since he is purely human with not a drop of non-human in him, completely lacking the shifter, gifted, or immortal genes that means that someone is breaking one of the few Old Law." He pauses with a predators smile, "That's bad news for them. Our pack has a blessed tracker, even if he does not hunt often he has not forsaken it. They will be dealt with accordingly. So anything to do with humans I will leave in your hands, but anything that deals with non-humans are ours to deal with."

As the two of them step out of the flat, he smiles as he spots the sleek black car sitting at the curb. "There's our ride," he murmurs to his bondmate.

"Who?" his bondmate inquires as he opens the boot up and shoves the two bags in it.

"Maria," he replies as he opens the back door and motions him in. "She was formally brought into the pack at the same time as you, while not an official part of the military pack, she aligns with it easier than with the rest. She will be driving us to Dartmoor where we can acquire our own vehicle if you prefer."

"Oh," his bondmate replies as the two of them get into the car.

The ride there mostly silent, with only soft flute music on the radio breaking that silence. Only once do they have to stop for anything and that's because he decides he wants to get something fresh to drink.

Upon getting to Dover they get a large black land rover jeep and he is not surprised when his bondmate wants to drive. Luckily enough he's a good driver and the two of them are quickly approaching where they need to be. When his bondmate spots an outcropping of rocks and pulls over to climb up it to look out at the surrounding area. They quickly discuss what each of the things they can see is. Afterwards, they get back in the land rover and drive into Grimpen village where they park at the inn before getting out and looking around. The first thing they spot is a young man talking about tours and the safety of the moors at night. As they go inside, he rolls his eyes because he knows it is a scam. His ears perk as someone shrieks but his senses do not detect a threat.

Once inside he heads to the bar to speak with the bar and inn keeper about getting a room. Soon enough the human who had introduced himself as Gary, is handing him a set of keys and joking about the bedding situation while his bondmate is prowling around the inn looking at everything in his normal fashion. Within their link he can hear his dark-haired human's running commentary as he deduces everything. One by one he can also hear the team checking in as they arrive and scope out the community.

Smiling, he remarks, "I couldn't help noticing on the map of the moor: a skull and crossbones."

Moving to set out some mugs he makes a noise of recognition, "Oh that, aye."

Still smiling he queries, "Pirates?"

The older human looks at him with shock on his face, "Eh, no, no." he answers, coming back his way, "The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it."

Blandly he remarks, "Oh, right."

Glancing down for a moment in consideration, the other man explains, "It's not what you think. It's the Baskerville testing site. It's been going for eighty-odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there anymore."

_Mouse, explore and report back on what you find at the minefield testing site._ He directs the best scout in their team. Aloud he asks, "Explosives?"

_**On it.**_shereplies almost immediately.

The humans eyes wide as he answers, "Oh, not just explosives." He looks down at what he is doing with the tabs, before looking back up at him, "Break into that place and, if you're lucky, you just get blown up, so they say," he pauses to take a breath, "in case you're planning on a nice wee stroll."

_Careful of landmines, _he cautions, nodding once with a small smile he replies to the human, "Ta. I'll remember."

Grimacing a bit the older man remarks, "Aye. No, it buggers up tourism a bit," eyes widening in a dramatic fashion, he continues, "so thank God for the demon hound!" he chuckles, moving out from behind the counter as he queries, "Did you see that show, that documentary?"

Bland expression still on his face he nods once answering, "Quite recently, yeah."

Picking up a couple of glass the other man comments, "Aye. God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell."

Curiously, he inquires, "Ever seen it, the hound?"

A single shake of his head no as the older man answers, "Me? No." before pointing at the young man on the phone outside of the door who they had passed on their way in talking about tours, "Fletcher has. He runs the walks, the Monster Walks for the tourists, you know? He's seen it."

He gives a discrete sniff of the air to determine if the human is telling the truth, or at least what he believes as the truth, "That's handy for trade."

From the back a shorted man in a white jacket comes walking behind the bar and the older man turns to him, remarking, "I'm just saying we've been rushed off our feet, Billy."

The second human glances at him commenting, "Yeah. Lots of monster-hunters. Doesn't take much these days. One mention on Twitter and oomph." Then glancing at the barkeep he notes, "We're out of WKD."

Walking around to the back of the bar again, the older man acknowledges the comment with, "Alright."

While the second human looks back at him stating, "What with the monster and that ruddy prison, I don't know how we sleep nights" glancing at his partner he queries, "Do you, Gary?"

Affectionately putting a hand on the shorter man's shoulder, the older man replies, "Like a baby."

Glancing over at his partner as he lets go of his shoulder and keeps working, the shorter human mutters, "That's not true," before turning his attention back to him, "He's a snorer."

Embarrassed the older of the pair hushes the short one, grumbling, "Hey, wheesht!"

Curious the shorter one asks with a nod towards his bondmate, "Is yours a snorer?"

He smiles at the shorter man, not answering the question but inquiring, "Got any crisps?"

While he is getting something to snack on and a drink he keeps his senses on alert to make sure he can track his bondmate. His tall human is wandering towards the bloke who has supposedly seen the hound.

"Mind if I join you?" he hears his bondmate inquire politely before continuing to speak in a mildly disbelieving tone, "It's not true, is it? You haven't actually seen this," he gives a small snort, "hound thing."

Suspicion fills the human's voice as he queries, "You from the papers?"

"No, nothing like that. Just curious. Have you seen it?" his tone remains polite but disbelieving, some would even call it lighthearted.

"Maybe," the human remarks.

As he walks over, he watches his bondmate watching the human with sharp focus as he asks, "Got any proof?"

Sounding defensive the younger human states, "Why would I tell you if I did?" before going to get up, "'Scuse me."

"I called Henry," he begins but is cut off by his bondmate turning to speak to him.

"Bet's off, John, sorry."

Settling into his spot, he raises an eyebrow questioningly, "What?"

Pausing the younger human looks between them repeating, "Bet?"

His bondmate glances at his watch before remarking, "My plan needs darkness." Still ignoring the younger man's questioning glance, he looks skyward as he continues to speak, "Reckon we've got another half an hour of light."

Slightly pushier the younger man demands, "Wait, wait. What bet?" while raising a hand to point at his mate.

Sounding completely sincere even if his scent gave away the fact he was lying, his bondmate answers the young man, "Oh, I bet John here fifty quid that you couldn't prove you'd seen the hound."

He smiles, understanding the ploy and glancing at the young man as he remarks, "Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could."

Smirking, the younger human waves his hand towards his mate stating, "Well, you're gonna lose your money, mate."

"Yeah?" his bondmate responds with interest, still keeping his voice soft with a small smile playing around the edges of his lips.

"Yeah." He repeats nodding, "I've seen it. Only about a month ago," he turns looking towards the direction he us referring to, "up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind," glancing down he continues speaking but is fiddling with his phone, "couldn't make much out."

Sarcastically his dark-haired human looks straight ahead as he comments, "I see. No witnesses, suppose."

"No but," the other human starts to say but his mate interrupts him by commenting.

"Never are."

"Wait," the younger human remarks as he flips his phone towards them and shows him an image of a dog, "There."

Snorting and smiling his bondmate queries, "Is that it?" he glances away as he continues, "It's not exactly proof, is it?" lifting the draft sitting in front of him like he is going to take a drink he remarks, "Sorry, John. I win."

Waiving his hand the young manner comments, "Wait, wait. That's not all." Shaking his head he continues, "People don't like going up there, you know, to the Hollow. Gives them a" he pauses for a moment as if considering what to say as he stares off into the space between them, "bad sort of feeling."

Dramatically his bondmate watches the other human as he acts wide eyed for a moment and coos, "Ooh! Is it haunted?" before returning to his soft tone he had been using previously, "Is that supposed to convince me?" he sets the glass down without taking a drink out of it.

Mildly condescending, the other human comments, "Nah, don't be stupid, nothing like that, but I reckon there is something out there, something from Baskerville, escaped." As he talks the young man nods, his scent clearly stating that he believes every word he says and is lying his arse off at the same time.

Sounding rather disbelieving and questioning all at once, his bondmate queries, "A clone, a super-dog?"

"Maybe," the other human retorts, "God knows what they've been spraying on us all these years, or putting in the water. I wouldn't trust 'em as far as I could spit."

He looks down as the human continues speaking. He really does smell as if he is telling the truth, be really believes that there is something running free in the moors from Baskerville, the only part he is lying about is the fact he has seen it. According to scent, the young man knew what he saw, but used it as part of his trade to get people to do what he wanted. A small part of him considered using direct thought listening but decide against it because that's not his style. Besides, his mate still has the rest of the day and into tomorrow to solve his part of this before he takes over.

Nodding towards the phone, his dark-haired human comments, "Is that the best you've got?"

For a moment the other human is silent while he considers what to say, finally he starts speaking but it is in a lower tone than he has previously used, but full of earnestness, "I had a mate once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishin' but he never showed up," he nods a bit, " well, not 'til late." He pauses for a breath, "When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. 'I've seen things today, Fletch,' he said, 'that I never wanna see again. Terrible things' He'd been sent to some secret Army place – Porton Down, maybe; maybe Baskerville, or somewhere else." He leans a bit closer, still keeping his low, earnest tone, "In the labs there, the really secret labs," he glances between them, "he said he'd seen," he pauses for a moment, "terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said, and dogs," he pulls a piece of plaster out that is a paw print that would almost match his wolf print, "dogs the size of horses."

Grabbing his drink, he sniffs the air to see if there is any remaining scent or if the plaster is faked. He's only mildly surprised to find that it has a lingering scent of elite wolf. Aloud he remarks, "Er, we did say fifty?" while telepathically he reaches for the cobra, _have you decided the best way to enter Baskerville? There is an elite wolf in the area according to the mold of a paw I was just shown and smelled._

_Through the front door with my ID._ The cobra quickly replies. _However not today, you have promised your mate twenty-four hours so I am seeking out all other shifters in the area today and tomorrow, the day after I will be going in._

_Good._ He replies as his bondmate pulls put his wallet and gets a fifty pound note for him as he finishes his drink. "Ta." He tells the human as his bondmate stands and heads towards the jeep. He just smiles and follows him.


	68. Baskerville: Sherlock's Visit

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 68  
__John's POV  
_As they get into their vehicle he does a quick mental inventory of who all is currently there and what their skill set is. Normally he would have Mouse do this type of scouting but was unsure if she would be able to get there in time from where she currently was. Well, nothing for it, best to ask.

_Mouse, report. _He queries of the scout.

_Almost to the test site. The area surrounding it is rather healthy, as if cared for, but something is off. I can smell heavy chemicals in the air, including ones that would be highly mind-altering to a human. S_he replies as she continues on her way.

_By pass it for now and head directly to Baskerville will you be able to get there before us in the jeep?_ He orders.

She considers it for a moment, _I will catch a lift, just let me find, got it! _She pauses for a moment before replying, _**yes sir. **_

He smiles. One of Mouse's most useful tricks was the ability to control regular animals through a version of telepathy where she can convince them to do what she wants. It rarely fails her, though he is curious what type of animal she has commandeered until he sees the hawk in the sky as they are driving to Baskerville.

_Tech, make sure that when they scan for Mycroft it goes no further than a quick check and does not alert him that his card has been used until we are ready to leave. If possible ensure it shows Sherlock's face not his brothers in the IDing._ He comments to the cobra.

There is no reply for a moment and then, _It is done. You have one hour before it will actually record that you are there. Right now all permission caused by his card will come directly to me. _

A mental nod is his only answer.

_**I am here. Having the bird drop me off on top the main building. If this base is like most, my mouse self will not even register on the alarms, though I will keep shielded to be on the safe side. **_She updates him as she has the wild bird drop her off.

Several minutes later they are pulling up to the gat at Baskerville, his bondmates sharp eyes taking in everything while he does as well though from a different perspective. Years of planning for special ops comes into play as his mind begins its detailed study of the personal and buildings.

_Have you alerted the general that I am looking into a situation?_ he queries of the cobra as they stop the vehicle at the guards request.

_Yes. I have alerted him. He has agreed to back you if there is a shifter law being broken here. _The cobra replies.

He sends a mental nod and a moment later the impression of a smirk reaches him. Apparently the cobras trick with the computer system had worked.

"Straight through sir," the guard comments as he hands back the security pass.

As his bondmate drives onto the base he merely smiles, not telling his bondmate that the cobra had adjusted the system to show him instead of his brother, at least for the moment.

"Mycroft's name literally opens doors," he remarks somewhat sarcastically.

"I've told you, he practically is the British government. I reckon we've got about twenty minutes before they realize something's wrong." His bondmate remarks as he continues driving up the entryway.

When they get out of the vehicle, his eyes sweep the area and he carefully sniffs the air. He can smell members of every race. Narrowing his eyes he sends his empathy seeking and is surprised to find that the immortal he felt was a Dusk Linage within the compound. Carefully brushing his empathy against the immortal, he is amazed that there is not a response, because all immortals can feel the brush of empathy or telepathy, it's in their genetic makeup.

Nearly everyone not in military uniform is escorted by someone who is, mostly those with weapons as well. As they follow a human soldier to front door of the main complex another vehicle pulls up and a young human hops out inquiring, "What is it? Are we in trouble?"

With a tone to match his brother's his bondmate responds, "'Are we in trouble, sir.'"

Glancing between the two of them, the human replies, "Yes, sir, sorry, sir," before stepping between them and the building.

Since today belongs to his bondmate, he allows the tall human to handle the situation, "You were expecting us?"

Looking directly at his bondmate while standing in military at ease, the human answers, "Your ID showed up straight away, Mr. Holmes." He glances between the two of them as he introduces himself, "Corporal Lyons, security." The human pauses for a moment before nodding once towards his mate as he repeats himself, worry evident in his scent and slightly in his tone, "Is there something wrong, sir?"

His bondmate glances around a bit as he replies, "Well, I hope not, Corporal, I hope not."

Very solemnly the human explains, "It's just we don't get inspected here, you see, sir. It just doesn't happen."

Keeping an emotionless expression, he pulls out his military picture ID, he presents it to the human as he comments, "Ever heard of a spot check? Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

Even as he finishes his introduction, the younger human is snapping to attention and saluting him, "Sir!" a moment later the younger man remarks, "Sir. Major Barrymore won't be pleased, sir. He'll want to see you both."

His bondmate goes to speak but to short fuse whatever situation might have aroused from it he switches to captain mode and orders, "I'm afraid we won't have time for that. We'll need the full tour right away. Carry on." For a moment the younger man looks like he is about to argue and his bondmate smells curious but says nothing, "That's an order, Corporal."

Looking down submissively the younger human remarks, "Yes, sir." Before turning and heading to the entrance.

At the entrance the human swipes his card than steps aside so that his bondmate can swipe the card he had snitched from his brother. Slowly the door opens with a rather annoying noise and he takes another sniff of the air as they follow the human in.

Within the building the scents are even stronger, including the emotional ones that he is now picking up. The primary scent seems to be human, but the underlying scent is anything but. Humans, at least twenty distinct shifter scents, nearly the same amount of gifted scents, and one immortal plus a variety of regular animals, altered animals, plants, and chemicals. Altogether it is rather offensive to his sense of smell, though he is thankful his scenting ability is not as strong as the cobra's. His mind also tested the door to see if it was going to be something that would need to be dealt with and was surprised that it was not designed with the concept of keeping it protected from psionic manipulation. Interesting.

"Nice touch," his bondmate remarks softly as they follow the human, his expression serious.

A small smile curves his lips for a moment, "Haven't pulled rank in ages."

"Enjoy it?" the dark-haired human queries.

Sarcastically he replies, "Oh yeah."

A moment later they are at a shining silver colored door where both Sherlock and the corporal have to use their cards to open it.

Stepping into the elevator that the door revels, the soldier presses the button for the first subfloor level with there being at least four more according to the button pad. The trip down is silent as they get out it is to step into a lab that is nearly all white and silver, brightly lit, and full of humans buzzing about in white lab suits, some covered from head to toe, others just the regular lab coat.

As they step past the first cage a rhesus macaque screams at them, while in his head he hears the faintest pleas for help. Opening his telepathy wide it becomes easier to hear. _Help us, let me out! I am not an animal! I am a shifter. Please, please help us!_

_Shhhhh, calm down,_ he mentally murmurs to the small monkey, _I will be returning tomorrow in order to end whatever is going on here with the shifters. This is an affront to our kind, I just have to have information before I can act. _

This seems to calm the monkey, because she settles down, staring at them from behind the bars, eyes wide.

His bondmate queries, "How many animals do you keep down here?" as he spins on his heels and looks over at the monkey who had just been screaming.

The human turns a bit, replying, "Lots, sir."

"Any ever escape?" his bondmate questions.

"They'd have to know how to use that lift, sir. We're not breeding them that clever." The human replies.

Again he scents the air, taking in the fact that the human seems to be telling the truth, which means he does not know that some of these animals are actually people. That makes him wonder how many of these people are actually aware of the experiments that they are protecting or if they are merely the type to take orders without finding out or caring why.

"Unless they have help," his dark-haired human remarks seriously.

A human who had just removed his mask comes walking over, querying, "Ah, and you are?"

Pausing to stand at ease, the soldier comments, "Sorry, Doctor Frankland. I'm just showing these gentlemen around."

With an open smile the man states, "Ah, new faces, huh? Nice. Careful you don't get stuck here, though. I only came to fix a tap!" as he walks past them towards the lift.

He chuckles politely at the joke, while his bondmate looks around with a serious expression on his face.

Politely he asks, "How far down does that lift go?"

Still standing at ease the human replies, "Quite a way, sir."

He follows up be asking, "Mmm-hmm. And what's down there?" as he glances back at the doctor who is watching them while waiting for the lift. Carefully he reaches out for the humans mind, barely brushing it with his empathy. He is surprised when he feels a compulsion on the human. Interesting. His bondmate is carefully watching the other human, his eyes taking in everything as they begin to walk again.

"Well, we have to keep the bins somewhere, sir. This way please, gentlemen." He directs as he heads towards the other end of the room.

Following close behind the human he keeps his sense out, looking for the problems and cataloging the as they walk, however aloud he asks, "So what exactly is it that you do here?"

Sounding completely confused the corporal replies, "I thought you'd know, sir, this being an inspection."

They pause for a moment for his bondmate to catch up and he turns to face the younger man answering with a slight smile, "Well, I'm not an expert, am I?"

The hint of a smile appears on the younger man's face as he explains, "Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir."

As they start walking again, he asks, "But mostly weaponry?"

_Are you here to help us? _Another voice asks and he glances over to see a small mouse with light blue eyes staring at him. _You're not bound like us, please make them stop._

"Of one sort or another, yes." the human answers as he swipes his card and waits for Sherlock to do his.

He sends mental reassurance while stating, "Biological, chemical," his voice trailing off questioningly.

The human nods, "One war ends, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared."

As they step into the next room, he watches as a human female works with another human and a small, normal monkey. She is speaking with the other human, making notes on her clipboard before starting to walk away.

"Doctor Stapleton," the human calls out politely as he heads towards her with them following.

"Stapleton," his bondmate repeats thoughtfully.

"Yes?" she answers, writing on her clipboard before looking up and noticing them, "Who's this?"

Stopping to stand before her in military ease, the soldier replies, "Priority Ultra, ma'am. Orders from on high. An inspection."

Her tone is disbelieving as she utters, "Really?"

Using that uppity tone that mirrors his brother's so well, his bondmate states, "We're to be accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton. What's your role at Baskerville?"

She snorts at him in disbelief, looking between the two of them.

He just about snaps, "Er, accorded every courtesy, isn't that the idea?"

Sarcastically she responds, "I'm not free to say. Official secrets."

A predators smile curves his bondmates lips as he retorts, "Oh, you most certainly are free," his voice drops an octave becoming more commanding, "and I suggest you remain that way."

Startled she stares at him for a moment before politely replying, "I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up", she glances between "genes, mostly; now and again actual fingers."

An ironic smile curves his mates lips as he pulls his notebook out of his pocket while listening to her answer. "Stapleton. I knew I knew your name."

"I doubt it." she mutters disbelieving as she rubs her nose.

Still smiling a bit, his bondmate holds up his notebook, as he comments, "People say there's no such thing as coincidence. What dull lives they must lead."

Showing it to the human, she stares at him for a moment before demanding, "Have you been talking to my daughter?" her voice and scent are full of concern

The soldier glances at the notebook then the doctor, a look of confusion clearly written on his face.

Closing the notebook and slipping it back into his pocket he queries, "Why did Bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton?"

She doesn't answer, her eyes flickering as she stares at him, her scent heavy with worry and fear. Carefully touching her mind, he finds it in chaos, there is a terror there, though of what he cannot say without going deeper which would alert her that there was someone in her mind if she had any sort of gift. According to her scent she has the blood, but her reaction says that she is human, meaning one of the many born to a parent of gifted blood with a human lover or spouse.

"Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive." He leans forward a bit, still speaking, "Clearly an inside job."

"Oh, you reckon?" she retorts defensively.

"Why?" he pronounces, lowering his voice a bit as he leans into her personal space, "Because it glowed in the dark." His tongue clicks the k.

Eyes widening, her scent adding lying to its mix she lifts her head responding, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Who are you?"

_So you know, we actually have one hour, not twenty minutes, before they realize we're not supposed to be here. _He comments to his bondmate through their link as the tall human checks the time.

_Really? How?_ He replies as he stares at her.

_Two guess, _he sarcastically replies, really this was an easy one.

"Who are you?" she repeats a little more forcefully.

His eyes narrow as he replies, "Someone who has been notified of several unusual animals being removed without previous authorization." _Eric. _He states, suddenly understanding.

She flushes a bit, "No, no, no, there was official permission to take the rabbit, all the testes had showed it to be perfectly normal. Its fur was just a bit more reflective of any sort of light than normal, that's it. I did not kill the rabbit, it died on its own, I just took it out before she saw." She finally explains before glancing around the lab. "It was not one of the classified projects, it was approved of, now if that's all?"

He watches her for a moment before glancing at him and raising a questioning eyebrow. He tilts his head a bit in response, glancing back at the lift.

"Are there any other animals that have been removed in a similar fashion?" he demands.

She stares at him blankly for a moment before heading over to one of the computer terminals and quickly typing. A moment later she straightens up, answering, "Doctor Simons had permission to take his beagle home for review on how it did outside of a controlled environment, Doctor Romaray has recently had four deaths in his lab, otherwise there have been no animals that have escaped or left the compound in the last year. There have been twenty three new animals brought in for Doctor Romaray however. He has had the biggest increase in experiments. His are completely around animals however, all of them omnivores actually."

"Is he here?" he asks, the name sounds familiar though he is not sure why.

She shakes her head, "Not today, he is due back tomorrow. The last three days have been a vacation for him."

His bondmate nods, "Alright. If you are sure then we are done here. Make sure that no more unique animals are spotted by civilians," he orders, turning on his heel and heading towards the door.

The human soldier stares after him as he strides towards the door for a moment muttering, "That's it?" questioningly.

"That's it," his bondmate replies. "It's this way, isn't it?"

Shaking his head, he moves to catch up with his bondmate while the human trail behind them, his scent confused. The fear that had filled the doctor's scent is gone, being replaced by confusion but she says nothing else. At the door, his dark-haired human swipes his card before waiting for the security to do the same and the three of them get onto the lift.

Still striding with purpose, his bondmate heads towards the door, seeming to be focused on one thing only, leaving. As the three of them move silently, he continues to hear the calls for help from the various ones they pass and reassures each of them as best as he can that help would be coming soon, just to calm down. A small burst of empathy is used in order to reinforce this idea. At the next lift, they do the same as the last, with his bondmate swiping his card, then the soldier before the three of them get on. Only this time the human Doctor Frankland is standing in the lift, he looks like he had been waiting for something or thinking something through.

"Hello," he greets them as he looks up, with a chuckle he continues, "again," smiling at both of them in turn.

He can feel the suspicion rolling off of his bondmate, but his dark-haired human says nothing and the lift ride up is as silent as the last. When the lifts doors open they are confronted by a gifted man wearing military fatigues and glaring at them.

"Er, um, Major, this is" the human begins but is cut off.

"This is bloody outrageous. Why wasn't I told?" he snarls standing there in a combative posture.

Making sure to keep a bland expression, he shields both his and his bondmates minds as he questions, "Major Barrymore, is it?" He glances at the corporal before stepping forward to stop directly in front of the gifted man, happy that he lacks the scenting ability to realize what he is, "Yes, well, good. Very good," he offers his hand to shake, "We're very impressed, aren't we, Mr. Holmes?"

The gifted man glares at him, not moving to accept the handshake as is the polite thing to do.

His bondmate breezes past him with a sarcastic look on his face as he remarks, "Deeply, hugely," before continuing to walk.

Still snarling the gifted man spins as he barks out, "The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense."

He can just about feel his bondmate rolling his eyes as he comments, "I'm so sorry, Major."

"Inspections!" the gifted man exclaims.

His bondmate spins on his heels, staring directly at the major as he snaps, "If there had not been multiple reports of animals besides the hound getting out we would not be here. Keep better track of your people Major." Then he turns and starts heading towards the door again without giving him a chance to respond.

As major doesn't get another chance to speak as his bondmate goes breezing out of the door after it automatically opens.

They are half way to their vehicle when the human doctor comes trotting after them, "I'll see them out corporal," he tells their escort when he catches up. Quietly, so none of the military men around them can hear, the human questions, "This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?"

His bondmate glances at the older human questioningly but says nothing aloud.

"I thought so. I knew he wanted help but I didn't realize he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes!" the doctor remarks as they get closer to their jeep.

His bondmate smiles tightly, but says nothing. Instead he glances around, his eyes catching even more details as they continue to walk.

"Oh, don't worry. I know who you really are. I'm never off your website." The older man tucks his hands into his pockets before muttering, "I almost didn't recognize him." pausing for a moment the human glances at him next, "I love the blog too, Doctor Watson."

Smiling, he glances over at the human commenting, "Oh, cheers!"

Slightly babbling the doctor keeps speaking, "The, er, the Pink thing," he pauses for a moment, "and that one about the aluminum crutch!"

He makes noises of appreciation without actually saying anything.

When they are finally in a spot without anyone nearby who can hear them, his bondmate turns to the older human demanding, "You know Henry Knight?"

With his hands still tucked into his coat the taller human response, "Well, I knew his dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend." The human glances back at the door to the main building where the gifted man is standing before continuing, "Listen, I can't really talk now." he pulls out a card, handing it to him. "Here's my, er, cell number. If I could help with Henry, give me a call."

Giving the doctor a narrowed glance, his bondmate accepts the card and queries, "I never did ask, Doctor Frankland. What exactly is it that you do here?"

For a moment the older human looks down, "Oh Mr. Holmes," he looks back up continuing, "I would love to tell you," he bounces a bit, "but then, of course, I'd have to kill you!" a cheerful chuckle escapes him.

With a completely straight face and deadpan tone, his bondmate retorts, "That would be tremendously ambitious of you."

This seems to startle the human because he suddenly becomes serious and he shrugs. There is something in his scent though he cannot determine what exactly it is with the after scent of all those chemicals still burning through his sinuses.

"Tell me about Doctors Stapleton, Simons, and Romaray." He states, voice commanding.

He glances around for a bit before answering, "I will never speak ill of a colleague." He pauses for a moment, "Romaray is new, only been here for a year so there is not much I know about him."

Tilting his had a bit, his bondmate remarks, "Yet you'd speak well of one, which you're clearly omitting to do."

The human tilts his head a bit with a sardonic smile, "I do seem to be, don't I?"

Using the card that the human had just handed him to motion, his bondmate, states, "I'll be in touch."

Nodding once, the doctor replies, "Anytime."

Nothing else is said as the pair gets in the jeep and take off, he can just about hear the thoughts spinning through his bondmates head as they pull off of the base.

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**AN:** TsonSA: thank you for the acknowledgement, she might have been a cat, but she was still my baby (particularly since I hand nursed her when her mama cat abandoned her). On another note, I do not know if you use AO3 but if you do, there is a lovely WIP by Taigatora called It's All About Your Pride about a lion shifter Sherlock and wolf-lion John.


	69. Dewer's Hallow At Night and a Meeting

Thank you to all you lovely people who clicked on some form of communication, I simply adore getting messages about reviews, favorites, and follows. Enjoy!

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Chapter 69  
_John's POV  
_As they are driving from Baskerville to Henry's house because the young man had finally called as they were leaving, he decides to inquire about the situation with the rabbit that his bondmate had just witnessed.

"So, the email from Kirsty," he glances over at his driving bondmate, "the, er, missing luminous rabbit."

Rather blandly his bondmate replies, "Kirsty Stapleton, whose mother specializes in genetic manipulation."

Looking out the window he comments, "She made her daughter's rabbit glow in the dark."

Still rather blandly his bondmate explains, "Probably a fluorescent gene removed and spliced into the specimen. Simple enough these days."

Curious about what is on his dark-haired humans mind he begins, "So," but lets it trail off questioningly to see if he will pick up the sentence.

Sure enough he does with a glance in his direction, "So we know that Doctor Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments on animals. The question is: has she been working on something deadlier than a rabbit?"

Taking a deep breath he considers it for a bit before remarking, "To be fair, that is quite a wide field." He pauses for a moment before replying, "And she smelled heavily of fear when you asked about the rabbit so I don't think it is her working on the more dangerous experiments."

For a bit the ride becomes silent, his bondmate looks like he is considering something he hadn't originally. Eventually the taller man asks , "Some of those animals were far too smart to be regular animals, were they shifters?"

He nods once tensely. "They were, and tomorrow the team and I will be removing them from that place while dispensation a bit of justice."

"I'm sorry," his bondmate murmurs and nothing else is said the rest of the way to Henry's home.

The house itself is old and shows the memories of times long past, far better times long past according to the fact it appears to have once been a very fine house though now it is in dire need of a lot of work. Heading through the conservatory, they stop at the door and ring the door bell, waiting for the human to answer. His bondmates eyes are wide, and he can hear his heart racing a bit.

_John, I don't feel right. Why?_ He inquires on their bondlink.

Switching to iota sight he looks him over, finding nothing physically wrong, so instead he reaches out with his telepathy and empathy, carefully touching his mind and finding the small part of his bondmate that was awoken with their bonding. His bondgift of reemberancy is trying to come online again, however his bondmates strict control of his mind is causing it difficulties.

_Your rememberancy is trying to show you something, you can either chose to let it, or ignore it and it will go away in a bit but leave you with a headache. We really do need to get you trained in that so you can use it effectively. _He tells the taller man just before the other human opens the door.

"Hi," the human greets them, staring at them mildly shocked according to his scent.

"Hi," he replies softly, using a touch of empathy to calm his emotions.

Motioning with one hand for them to come while the other is on the door, the troubled human beckons them, "Come in, come in."

Immediately his bondmate strides past the other human, pausing only long enough to click the heels of his shoes clean before continuing down the hall. Despite this, he is rather certain that his tall human is gathering all the information that his senses will give him with ease. He himself gets the impression of several generations that had lived here from the residual empathic energy that surrounds the house. For a moment he considers asking about his status within the human world but decides against it, it has no bearing on why they are there, instead he follows the two humans into the kitchen where the kettle is hissing. They seat themselves at one side of the island while the troubled human works gets out three mugs and stops by a shelf of various types of tea, inquiring if they have a preference. Since neither does, he just grabs one and makes each of them a cup with it. Once he has the tea and hot water seeping, he passes the mugs to each of them before sitting the sugar and milk between them so they can flavor their tea to preference.

While they do so he stares at the counter softly stating, "It's-it's a couple of words. It's what I keep seeing. 'Liberty'," he takes a deep breath as if to gather his thoughts, "'Liberty'," he repeats, "and 'in'. It's just that." He looks up, picking up the milk and querying, "Are you finished?"

Making an affirmative noise, he smiles reassuringly at the younger man before he turns to his bondmate asking softly, "Mean anything to you?"

Very quietly his bondmate replies, "'Liberty in death', isn't that the expression? The only true freedom."

He nods once, recognizing the full expression while the troubled human turns back towards them sighing and his mate takes a drink of the tea.

Staring out the window for a moment, the younger human seems to exclude sadness and eventually looks between them asking, "What now, then?"

He smiles at the human before turning to look at his bondmate replying, "Sherlock's got a plan."

Rather upbeat his bondmate declares, "Yes."

Eyes wide, the troubled human stares at him bobbing his head quickly as he says, "Right."

Sitting the tea mug down, he begins, "We take you back out onto the moor."

Nervously exhaling he agrees, "Okay," and continues to stare unblinkingly at his bondmate.

"And see if anything attacks you." he finishes rather blandly.

Startled, he gives his bondmate a funny look questioning, "What?"

With a small smile, his bondmate glances at him muttering, "That should bring things to a head."

While the troubled human starts to babble, "At night? You want me to go out there at night?"

His mate makes an affirmative noise watching the troubled human's reaction.

Looking at his tall human he queries, "That's your plan?" but he cannot help but snort with laughter a bit, "Brilliant!" between him and Eric he was not sure who was more impulsive when coming up with a plan, how they ever manage to not get massively hurt more often he does not know.

Mildly defensively his bondmate replies, "Got any better ideas?"

He shakes his head, answering, "That's not a plan."

Staring hard at him his bondmate retorts, "Listen, if there is a monster out there, John, there's only one thing to do: find out where it lives." He turns back to the other human with a smile before taking another sip of his tea.

Fear radiates from the troubled human and he does not look like he is very reassured.

A short while later the three of them are making their way to the hollow with flashlights as the sky begins to darken.

With his mind he reaches to see which one of the protectors he currently has with him and is not really surprised to find it is Edward, the packs eagle owl. Let's face it, a bird with a with a wing span of one-hundred and sixty centimeters, perfect night vision, and razor like talons makes a great first defense. Nor is he surprised that he can still feel Spathi sticking close to his bondmate, she is very good at what she does, and while she is not an elite, her ability to become a full grown lion makes her a match for most anything when coupled with her training.

His bondmate and the troubled human end up getting ahead of him when seeks an unusual noise he was hearing. He also takes note of someone using a light to do Morse code, spelling out UMQRA. Something to give to Eric to look into apparently. Quickly using his bond between him and his mate, he tracks him, and catches up to the two humans as they crest into the hallow which just happens to be on the edge of the minefield.

Oh that explains a lot, he thinks.

Sniffing the air, he notices the sharp tang of chemicals, most of which would have no effect on him but could cause a lot of effects on his human mate. Though he has a feeling that his mate will have a slightly higher tolerance to whatever chemicals is in the air due to his years on drugs. How ironic. Catching up to the pair, but still just far enough away that they cannot easily spot him, he listens to their conversation.

"Met a friend of yours," his bondmate comments blandly.

Confusion colors the other humans tone, "What?"

"Doctor Frankland."

"Oh," he seems startled before his voice loses its energy, "right. Bob, yeah."

"Seems pretty concerned about you." his mate remarks, a touch of friendliness in his tone.

"He's a worrier, bless him." he pauses for a breath, "He's been very kind to me since I came back." As he speaks, the troubled human's voice goes between normal and low.

Curiosity fills his dark-haired human's voice as he states, "He knew your father."

"Yeah," the troubled human mutters.

Still sounding curious his bondmate continues, "But he works at Baskerville. Didn't your dad have a problem with that?"

"Well, mates are mates, aren't they?" he pauses for a moment, "I mean, look at you and John."

His bondmates tone suddenly gets sharp, "What about us?"

"Well, I mean, he's a pretty straightforward bloke, and you," the troubled human's voice suddenly trails off as if he has decided that might not be the best sentence to finish. "They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad."

The two of them come to a stop and he looks down the side of a slop, before unhappily stating, "Dewer's Hollow."

Turning the light off and tucking it into his coat pocket, he shifts into his wolf form before shielding himself completely. Almost as soon as he does that he catches the scent of a fellow elite wolf though there is something that is off about it. Something not quite right. In his wolf form he can smell even more of the chemicals and while they are giving him a headache, that is all they are doing. However he can hear the sound of howling and howls back in response, causing the foreign animal to fall silent and bolt. A moment later his bondmate and the other human come rushing towards him and he quickly returns to human form grabbing his flashlight.

_Follow it. _ he directs the owl soaring above him.

_**Sir.**_

As they make their way back to the troubled humans house the owl reports back.

_**It went into the compound sir, where an alchemic silver set of bands were removed from its ankles and wrists before it morphed back into a naked human male. At that point an alchemic silver collar was put on him. He submitted willingly but there are a great many marks on his body that tell me this is not something he has always done. Mouse has requested that I pick her up in one hour. **_The eagle owl informs him.

_Is Yana here?_ He queries while he processes the rest of the report.

_**Yes sir,**_ the large owl replies.

_Then have her retrieve Mouse. She is smaller and less noticeable yet will have no difficulties carrying Mouse. _He informs the eagle owl as he continues to follow his silent mate. _Make sure she shields, I know you have taught her how. Best to be safe._

_**Sir. **_

Almost as soon as they get to the edge of the property the troubled human starts babbling about how he must have seen whatever was out there. However his bondmate is not listening and takes the jeep, returning to the inn according to Spathi who is staying with him. Meanwhile, he continues to follow the troubled human into his home, considering how to deal with him.

When the troubled human turns to him with sorrow written clearly on his face, questioning, "Why would he say that? It-it-it-it it was there. It was."

Deciding to do his duty as a doctor he motions to the sofa, stating, "Henry, Henry, I need you to sit down, try and relax, please."

Gaining a bit of control over himself, the troubled human mutters, "I'm okay, I'm okay."

"Listen, I'm gonna give you something to help you sleep, all right?" he queries as he scans the room and spots some water which he goes to fetch.

While he is doing that, the troubled human slowly starts to take his scarf off as he remarks, "This is good news, John. It's-it's-it's good." The human sets his scarf next to him as he continues, "I'm not crazy. There is a hound, there, there is." he presses his hands together, looking towards him, "And Sherlock, he saw it too. No matter what he said, he saw it."

_**The alpha-second seems to be under the influence of a drug, should I have the iota check him?**_Spathi inquires as she shares the image of his mate.

_No. I will be there shortly, make sure he does nothing stupid in the meanwhile._ He replies.

_**Understood. **_

After he hands the human the pill and water, he makes sure that he has taken them before using a small surge of power to speed the process up. A few moments later the younger man is sprawled on his sofa, with a throw pillow under his head and a blanket draped over him.

Shutting off most of the light he leaves the house, closing the door behind him. Once he is outside he shifts, returning to his wolf form and shielding before sprinting to town, only to shift behind the inn and causally unshield when he is certain that no one will see him.

Once inside the inn, he walks over to where his bondmate is sitting by the fireplace, stopping to rest a hand on his sweating temple, and surging energy through him, burning away all traces of whatever drug was in his system. Almost as soon as he does that, the sweating ends and his eyes become focused.

Sitting down across from him in the other chair he watches his ate for a moment before commenting, "So did you see the pup then?"

His bondmate's eyes narrow at him, "Pup? Are you sure it looked like a giant hound."

He nods once, "I had him followed, right back to the base, there is a hound alright, but he is not the kind you are expecting. Now I think you need to get some rest because you were drugged and should go rest in the room."

"John?" his bondmate questions.

"Trust me," he stands up, "go rest, you'll feel better if you do."

Without actually waiting to see if the tall man will take his advice he heads outside and spots that the Morse code lights are going again. Instead of trying to figure out what it says, he starts heading in that direction. When he is out of sight of humans and town, he morphs before easily loping up to it where he discovers its just two humans having sex in a vehicle, one of them keeps hitting the lights button. Way more information than he needed. He has just returned to town when his phone chirps at him.

- Henry's therapist currently in Cross Keys Pub- SH

-So?- JW

- Interview her?- SH

-Why me?- JW

-You are nicer- SH

Before he has a chance to answer the last one, two more come through, the first being a picture of a rather lovely female who he would have been attracted to if he was not bonded the second being a message.

-Besides, I'm taking my doctors orders. Going to bed.- SH

He chuckles, muttering, "Ooh, you're a bad man."

A few minutes later he has found the female in question and is getting her to talk about things when the human male doctor from the base comes walking up. Since he has not mentioned that he is shifter he has to act surprised when the older man's hand clamps down on his shoulder though he really does feel the urge to rip into him. Wolves might be tactile, but its still not a good idea to attempt to surprise one, particularly not one trained for warfare. He knows nearly as soon as the damn man starts speaking that any headway he was making with therapist is gone. Sighing, he rolls his eyes before heading back to their room to check on his bondmate who is curled on the bed and passed out cold.

Going outside he reaches for Eric for an update and is given directions to a local farm with several outbuilding, one of which the team is currently in. With a smile he finds himself racing across the moors again, not bothering to shield once he is in the wild lands until he has approached the farm where he shields until he is inside with the rest of the team.

During missions nothing is ever said aloud to prevent outsiders from hearing.

_Hello all, report._ He greets them as he comes to stand next to where Eric has draped his long mostly serpent body over some bales of hay.

Mouse is the first to do so. _I have completely scouted the military base called Baskerville. It is run by two gifted ones and a human. However as far as all documentation shows it is run only by one of the gifted and the human. The other gifted has used his gift to take control of the major but does so in a very subtle method. If I had not been observing at the time it occurred, I might not have realized it. There are exactly twenty-five shifters that I discovered within the base, bound. There is a total of seventeen gifted. None are physically bound, however after watching the display by the lead gifted, I believe that they are bound through power instead. I have also discovered two children of the gods, both trapped within their minds within isolation tanks. The first is aware, the second is not. _

She pauses for a moment eyes narrowing as she considers what to move on to._ Defense are top of the line, but should not cause us any problems. Particularly since you still have your security card and Tech can get anything I have ever seen put in his way. Every soldier is human, from what I have gathered, they are unaware that they are guarding an illegal operation. Nor are they aware that there are shifters on the property or the two children of the gods. Apparently only a small group of scientists are allowed in that part of the base, though they are escorted to the door. The humans soldiers sleep in a set of barracks on the east side of the base, it is also where their food supplies and recreational time is spent. _

Again she pauses, this time gathering her thoughts while she drinks her water. _Shifters. Total of twenty-five. Ages ranging between five years and fifty from what I can determine. Three wolves, one elite wolf, fourteen mice, five monkeys though their exact type I do not know, and two cats. All are bound either with alchemic silver collars or in glass cages made with alchemic silver. The hound is in truth the elite wolf, a pup no older than fifteen. Though his wolf form is as ragged as his human form. _She falls silent again, switching to relaying images instead covering every inch of the base in her normal method. When she is done she shifts into her mouse form and finds a place to settle in while she waits.

The wolf brothers are next up, they have spent the majority of the day scouting the surrounding areas and report on all of the people, animals, and buildings that have come across including the minefield which they decided to scout when it became obvious that Mouse was not going to be getting back to it today. Tech comes in next, his skill with a computer having allowed him to cause what would be considered havoc by many as he had broken into every supposedly secure system in the district for the information on them. When he had completed that he had used his telepathy to scout the area as well, not caring that many would consider it unethical the way he would go through a person's mind without ever considering the politeness of it. It had been him who has secured this location for their gathering. Renting it from one of the local farms, paying triple what they were asking for it, and then making sure that the farmer decided to be elsewhere for the next forty-eight hours so he would not see any of them. Spathi reports from her place with his bondmate about the things she had discovered while sticking close to him, some of it overlaps with the wolf brothers but there is also some details they had missed. Both owls come after that, giving their reports on the base as they saw it, though much of their details overlapped with Mouse's. The rest had only just arrived.

Calling the meeting to an end he reports that he will contact everyone first thing in the morning with the plans. They all agree and he returns to the inn where he cuddles up close to his bondmate and sleeps.

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**AN**: For anyone who is curious or has to look it up like I did, 160 CM equates to 63 in or 5 ¼ feet, making the eagle owl one big bird.


End file.
